The next morning Harvey was the first one to wake up, his neck sore and one of his arms almost completely dead. As he sat up, he soon realized that he wasn't in the same position he'd been in the night before. While he'd fallen asleep in his chair, during the night he'd moved forward, using a folded arm as a pillow, and Mikes arm as…well, he wasn't sure. But as he gently detached his hand from the pale, bruised skin, it was apparent from how stiff his fingers felt that he'd been that way for quite some time. Moving his head and gingerly rubbing his neck, he saw that Mike was still fast asleep, body twisted towards him, arm forced into a slightly awkward angle to accommodate Harvey's grasp on his wrist. As he pushed to his feet, he pulled the blankets up a little further before silently finding his wallet and phone and leaving the room. It wasn't even 8am, but he knew the sooner he could let Jessica know what had happened and the plan from here on out, the better. Not that that would make her more likely to approve his change of course, but it'd tick one more thing off his to-do list at the very least.
After a lot of reassurances, eventually the phone was being slipped back into his pocket, and Harvey was on his way back to Mikes room, coffee in hand and familiar feeling of personal triumph apparent in his gait. When he finally got back, he saw that Mike was just waking up, trying his hardest to shy away from the morning light filtering through the half-shut blinds. With a smirk, Harvey shut the door, and approached the bedside.
"Morning, sunshine" When he only got a groan in response, Harvey took a seat on the edge of the bed, nudging Mike's arm with the coffee cup. After a moment and with a bit of effort, Mike managed to sit himself up, face scrunching up in severe discomfort. He'd been right; overnight Mike's face had become a canvas of crimson and purple bruising – the story was the same on his knuckles and up his arm. With another nudge, Harvey handed him the coffee, his expression softer than usual.
"How're you feeling?"
"Like someone kicked my ass"
"Pretty fair conclusion." After promptly burning his tongue, Mike feigned indifference as he pushed the cup onto the side table for the time being.
"Still doesn't feel real – I mean, I know what happened, but it doesn't feel like it was me back there"
"Having your ass handed to you doesn't feel real to you?" For that Harvey earned a light clap to the arm.
"I'm serious – it all just feels like a bad dream or something"
"Well, feel free to wake up anytime – we've got work to do. I spoke to Jessica, and she said as long as Whitehall is closed by the end of tomorrow, you can be off the hook until you're out of here-"
"Wait, what?"
"What's the matter?"
Mike frowned, as though trying to recall a name. Narrowing his eyes, Harvey tried again.
"What is it?"
"I, um…Whitehall?"
"Yes..?"
"…What are they? What is it?"