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"F'your lookin' fer anova rentboy, they're on the corner of smiff-street"
The words ran through his memory for perhaps the millionth time.
Harry can recall with perfect clarity how each syllable sounded in that thick Cockney accent. Dripping with disdain, cruel and mocking.
He remembers how when he'd walked past them his nostrils had filled with the sour smell of beer though they had all only just walked into the pub not a moment ago and beneath that he could make out the a dizzying aroma of cheap cologne and cheaper cigarettes.
He can still see so clearly their reflection in the framed Guinness ad. Their greasy faces and beady eyes squinting stupidly, trying to reconcile between the confidence they were used to feeling over men who looked and dressed like him, and how his calm and polite manner unnerved them.
But above all he will never forget how behind them he could see Eggsy, still seated at the table, head bowed in resignation and shoulders hunched in defeat. His entire posture ready to receive a blow.
How in that moment he understood two things:
The first, was that Eggsy hadn't quit all of his past opportunities out of laziness or irresponsibility. He had given up on those chances because he had honestly thought that he would never succeed. His means of funds were not caused by looking for easy money, but as a result of being raised in a life of both physical and emotional abuse that had made him believe wholeheartedly he would never be offered anything better and had himself nothing better to offer.
The second, was that not only was Harry right in his assumptions of how Eggsy had been able to help support his mother and sister without having an actual job, but that these men knew it as well. These low-life thugs who served as lesser bullies under Eggsy's stepfather knew exactly what kind of life he was living and they they joked about it. They had probably used it to crush his spirit again and again over the years encouraged by the sadistic degenerate Dean Baker. As for Eggsy's mother, Harry had no doubts that she knew as well and had simply turned a blind eye to it all. He could tell how much of a selfish and self-pitying drama queen the Michelle Unwin-Baker was during their brief encounter all those years ago, more intent on playing the victim of her own life than paying attention to an opportunity to secure her son's future.
Harry will never forget how in that moment he knew he had to help Eggsy. It had nothing to do with finding a new recruit for Kingsman, or finally proving Arthur wrong, or even repaying his debt to Lee. It was this young man who had so much potential and no means of fulfilling it. It was this boy, this strong-willed, quick-witted, beautiful boy who needed to be saved because he was too good for the life he was living and too important for the future he was headed towards.
So Harry slipped seamlessly into Gallahad's persona and used it to do his dirty work. And when he lowered his umbrella he couldn't help the way his heart leaped just a little at the look of awe and admiration on Eggsy's face. And though that moment was short-lived as fear took over Eggsy's features, brought on by the certainty that Gallahad's wrath would now be turned on him, Harry caught a brief glint of something else in Eggsy's eyes. Something far too similar to ...arousal? No. It couldn't be, and he couldn't allow himself to think too much about it right then in any case. So in the blink of an eye Harry went back to being Harry and sat down to drink the last of his pint as calm and nonchalant as if the last five minutes hadn't happened.