"Good. Don't like it anyway," he said, smirking. "Least I could have just stuck with Harry." And he would have, because yeah, no. It was so... French, and romantic mooshy sounding. Because Hart wasn't.

"This busy young man has two things in his life, and only one since you died. The other is going to be looking for me soon and then there will be texts and more yelling and likely me tracking your ass down," he admitted, being bluntly honest. He suspected Harry would want that, one way or another.

"And no, that ain't it at all, and you're not old. You're Harry." And brain damaged. He couldn't argue that but he was seeing healing. Maybe one day he'd be out of a bed and living whatever life he wanted now. "I'm going to give you my mobile number before I go. Then you can call me and we won't risk Merlin intercepting, though he will. He gave me the damn thing."