It's barely eight when Harvey crosses the office, predatory walk making associates scuttle out of his way. The only downside of having his old office back is that he doesn't get to work besides her anymore – her schedule is a mystery to him these days. It's the strangest thing after having her so close for so many years.
She's bent down over some files when he stalks inside, makes to open his mouth – and stops.
Her dress today is red.
Not sober burgundy, or playful cherry. Bright red.
He's known her long enough to know what it means.
"Harvey, did you need something?" Donna asks, not looking up from from her paperwork.
He has to take a moment to remember what is it that he came to do in the first place. "Is it done?"
Donna puts her pen down, looks up at him with a small smile on her face, "You know it is, Harvey."
"Good," Harvey smirks back, "Do I want to know what he's getting, or should I have had my coffee first?"
"You can still have you coffee," she clicks away on that god-awful 4-color ballpoint pen of hers, the one that reminds him of being nine and excited to finally getting to do his schoolwork with a pen like a big boy, "He should be sending down the papers any time now. You'll know then."
Harvey's nostrils flare. Bright red.
"Is he going to be hand-delivering them?"
"I don't know," she leans back in her chair, careful eyes assessing him, "Why?"
Harvey shrugs, "Carte blanche doesn't mean I want to be blindsided."
He'd call her out on her wardrobe choices, if it didn't also mean he'd be exposing just how much he pays attention. Just how much he notices.
"Harvey. You said you wanted me to handle it, I'm handling it."
Harvey nods, turns around to leave without another word.
David Fox is a first class jerk, but an attractive one, Harvey's man enough to admit that. He's sure Donna knows better after the whole Stephen Huntley fiasco, but he knows it all too well, the pull of a charming asshole. He's used it to warm up his bed far more often than he'd care to admit.
It takes him the whole walk back to his office to notice his fists are clenched.