[ he steps down from the stool, but doesn't move toward harry, even as the boy rages at him and the others in the bar begin to turn their way and whisper. ]

No, we both know I can't change what's already happened. [ a disease, he'd said. incurable, hereditary. it doesn't narrow it down much, but perhaps the physical symptoms will help. ] I don't know what I can do about what you're suffering, but I can try. Harry, please.

[ he can't let him die. he can't. it's harry, this is harry, and alternate or not, it doesn't change the fact that this is his son. ] At least-- There's another man here, you can't miss him. Dr. Otto Octavius. He has-- [ a vague, distracted gesture with his hands, still watching the young man with his brows knit and fear and panic and self-loathing clawing up his insides. ] He has metal limbs like tentacles. At least talk to him, please.

[ maybe otto can pass along the information, and norman can.. do whatever he has to. ]