Harvey’s always got this solemn feeling when you’re around him, like he dims rooms when he walks through the doorway, but it’s not because people don’t like him. It’s just strange. The atmosphere always gets thicker and intense.

“You.. do like me, right?”

But Harvey’s never this self-deprecating, and this is the third time in the past twenty minutes that he’s asked this. He takes a drag from his cigarette, sighing out the smoke, and you can tell he’s doing it just to avert your gaze.