Harry would have said he was bored but honestly, his mind was so active that it was hard to be bored. He had about a hundred ideas and he was making plans in his head, every second of every hour, his mind on one thing. Fucking Spiderman and how much he wanted to kill him for what he had done. For the lies, the betrayal, the fact that he had destroyed his beautiful Max. Lots of things to hate the bug for.

Lying back on his bed, Harry stared up at the ceiling and imagined his next potential move when he felt it.

A crackle. A spark. Static. It was static. He sat up suddenly and licked his lips, looking curiously around. "The feel of static, man. They always get to me." He spoke aloud to himself, he always did, it was nice to just verbalise thoughts sometimes. "I'm an electrical whore. Bad storm? Dodgy lighting? A gift from above?" He was open to all. They all screamed 'opportunity'.