[ Normally, he'd try to mask it. If it were anyone else, he would still make an attempt to. It's why he's preferred to seclude himself at times like these. But today is different and— it's Cisco. So Harrison allows for the regret and the guilt to slip, even as the corner of his mouth twists up into an awkward half smile. ]

Eighteen. He was eighteen. [ A beat. ] Just a stubborn— punk kid.

[ His voice is rough, he knows. With a sigh, Harrison turns his head towards Cisco, lowering the bag that had been pressed to his temple again. Ramon, who he'd used the same words to describe mere months ago. ]

I know, alright? [ That it's on Thawne, not him. That he can't change the past, or change the choices people have made. That nothing productive will come from feeling sorry for himself. ] I know. Just . . .

[ His voice trails off as he seems at a loss. This was why he always hid away to lick his wounds until he could puff himself back up. His eyes flick around the room briefly. ]

. . . talk about— that.

[ He gestures vaguely at one of Cisco's consoles. He doesn't care much about it to be honest, but it's not a particle accelerator nor is it Griffin Grey. And . . . Cisco likes it. So what the hell. ]