Meanwhile, at the Osborn mansion.
Harry wandered around the house, looking for his father until he walked into the living room seeing his mother, Martha Osborn. She was wearing her nice clothing and jewelry like she was ready to go out on a fancy date. But instead, she sourly sat alone on a lazy boy couch with a glass of scotch in her hand, as she dully watched reruns of live soap opera television shows. She laughed at every romantic scene unamused. "Foolish girl, believing he would stay after that stunt," she scoffed as she gulped her medicine.
"Hi mom," said Harry as he walked behind her, "Where is dad? I want to talk to him about something,"
Mrs. Osborn drunkenly glared at her son, "In his office like always," she growled, "If you talked to him, tell him that the special night is off!"
Harry nodded as he headed toward his father's office. The moment he reached the two giant doors, he could hear Mr. Osborn speaking loudly in a conversation.
"Let me tell you something about the American consumer market Joe," said Mr. Osborn, Harry could tell his father was not in a good mood. He slowly poked his head in between the door and saw the old angry Osborn pacing back and forth on his office red carpet, talking on his phone. Standing beside him was a young blond man, Justin, his father's assistant.
"The cigarette companies were putting addictive levels of nicotine in cigarettes decades before anyone figured it out," continued Mr. Osborn, "And when the government of the United States finally got around to figuring it out," he smirked, "It was too late, the entire world was already having a nicotine fit. So don't tell me that it is against the rules to add whatever additives we so desire to our products," Norman's veins started to pulse up agents on his wrinkled forehead. "Then what Deny?" he growled, "Deny… hello, Deny!? Damn it, he put me on hold!"
"Uhm sir," Justin softly spoke, "Your son-"
"I can't believe he put me on hold! Me!" Mr. Osborn gasps with shock.
"Dad…" Harry spoke up as he slowly made his way up to his father.
The older man glared at his son, "What is it boy, I'm busy," he snapped as he stayed on the phone.
"Dad, I uh," Harry stumbled on his words, "Can I give a private tour of your laboratory to a classmate of mine tomorrow?" he asked.
Norman glared at the boy, "What are you talking about?! You know my workplace is not a playground,"
"But it's during the time you are having my chemistry class in the laboratory, remember?" Mr. Norman froze. "You do remember, right?" Harry asked again. His father is a busy man and would sometimes forget the appointments that don't give him a lot of money.
The bitter old man clang her teeth, "Martha!" he screamed for his wife's name, "Martha!! Get your kid out of my sight!" he turned away and Harry stood there stunned. Justin quietly led the young Osborn out of the room. "Like I have nothing better to do than babysit a bunch of-hello? Joe!" he went back to his phone call as Harry was shut out of his room. "So listen, let's start doing some figures. Just push some numbers and see how it looks," his twisted grin grew, "Good boy,"
Harry went up to his room, passing his mother, noticing that the television was off. Her eyes were glued on her son, "So," she said in a slur, "Who is this 'special' classmate you like to give a tour to?"
He glared at her, "Just a friend, that's all," as he headed up to his room.
Martha cackled then slowly turned into a mocking laugh, "Face it, son, they are all alike and would end up like me."
Harry shut the door behind him and flopped himself on his bed.