For a moment, it almost looked like he'd gotten through to Harold. But then he had to remain so impossibly dense, and--

Briefly closing his eyes, Gunther resisted the urge to rub at his temples. No, it wasn't just him being dense. His nephew was a sick man, and it was going to take time for him to get well. That much was painfully obvious by now, even if it hurt to admit it to himself.

Well, as long as they were keeping him out of trouble (and explosives), then that was better than nothing. After reaching out for the photo, Gunther gently plucked it from Harold's grasp. "It's not a coincidence," he said. "Someday you'll see that. In the meantime, you'll always have a place in my home. I hope you'll at at least remember that in the future."