“Hey,” Mike says casually one morning, dropping onto the couch and flipping open a file. “Can you write me a letter of recommendation?”
There’s nothing but silence in the room - No typing or tapping of a pen or even breathing, which is strange. Harvey’s been loud and clear with his behavior, but maybe he didn’t think Mike had the balls.
“Anywhere in particular?” he asks calmly.
Mike shrugs. “I’ve been thinking about investment banking. Learned enough about M and A I’d guess.”
The continuing silence convinces Mike to look up in a way no amount of argument could have. Harvey has no facial expression, not anger or sadness, though a muscle twitches in his jaw, and there’s something strange about the way he’s sitting, tight and too still.
“Harvey?” he asks softly. “Can you?”
Shaking himself, Harvey nods. “Sure. Should be done before you leave.”
He nods curtly. “You’re welcome. Now get.”
“Right.” It wasn’t like he was expecting some dramatic last supper. A few paces past Donna’s desk he imagines the sound of glass shattering, and when he whirls around, Harvey’s standing, fists clenched to his sides, deep inhales shifting his shoulders, but he’s facing the window. There’s no way to tell -
“What did you do?” she asks, soft, no judgement.