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The one where Harry has a bone to pick with the interviewer.
He was already wary about him from the start, knowing full well the interviewer's tendency to put his foot in his mouth and ask the wrong, or just flat-out rude questions to his celebrity guests.
This interview is no different, as he thinks it a good idea to badmouth Harry's girlfriend, Y/n; which Harry won't tolerate. Especially as he tries to write it off as a throwaway joke.
"So Harry, we all know how often you frequent the gym, but it's obvious that your girlfriend never tags along with you to those gym sessions." The interviewer jests.
"What's that mean?" Harry replied flatly, a deadpan expression on his face.
"No, I just mean...she's clearly not as fit as you are," the interviewer doubles down. "We've just never seen her in the gym with you."
"Are you fucking stupid?" Harry practically barks, evoking a gasp from the audience.
"Harry, you've got your mic on, lad," Louis pipes up beside him. He's joking and clearly trying to ease the tension, but Harry ignores his friend, his withering glare still fixated on the rude interviewer.
"It's just jokes, Harry," the interviewer laughs, clearly uncomfortable with the energy that's just been created in the room.
"Really? Cause I'm not laughing," Harry says. "And I really don't think you would be either if some tosser suggested that your girlfriend was unhealthy. Maybe you should use all that talk show money you've got to find a therapist. You quite obviously need one." With that, Harry stands, takes off his mic, and storms offstage.
