"There's few of us, and even fewer here," he admits with a slight grimace, looking down at his neglected beer bottle. He misses Root so profoundly, and even Detective Fusco, and the countless others they've made allegiance with along the way. The list goes on so long. Harold will never see them again. He'll never trade obscure old paperbacks with Elias.

"It's myself, John Reese, and Sameen Shaw. And yourself and Mr. Carver, of course. We have other allies we could pull on as need be, but nothing formal."

Nothing quite of the same variety he has with his real team, where Harold can give an instruction and have it followed instantly, with absolute faith. He treasures and cherishes that immensely, and never takes it for granted -- every such instruction is measured with care.