It's self-preservation that has Mike timing his "gift" so that he can leave it at John's desk at a) the end of his own shift, which coincides with; b) the beginning of John's shift. The stack of microwaveable food containers, decorated like all children's containers are (this one's design has Sanrio's Keroppi on the side with an umbrella), is wrapped delicately in a tie-dye cloth. Along with the utensils, a folded note is tucked in beneath the top knot with Miguel's neat handwriting reading out "BOSS" as a label.
Opening the note reveals it's written on cheap Keroppi stationery to match. The message is, as is expected of Michael O'Mara, short and succinct:
Two meals: for lunch break and your inevitable overtime dinner. The heavier meal's for lunch. MAKE SURE YOU EAT THEM. Rinse the containers when you're done and leave them at my desk. You don't have to tie everything together like I did. M
Both meals have been planned with some sense-- lunch has rice, dinner has noodles. The proteins are lean meats cooked in flavourful sauce because Mike's "an asshole about seasoning", and the vegetables are the same. Sandwiched between the containers, though-- and which John should find easily once anything of the tower is moved-- is a printed out sticker of Keroppi. If nothing else, at least sentimental capitalism makes it easier to say things Mike could never himself.
The food is incredible, as always.
Johnathon does some of his best work in weeks this shift. It's probably because eating two balanced meals is more conducive to brain-intensive work than eating nothing at all, but he chooses to believe it's the power of Mike's cooking and the obvious attention with which it's been prepared that propels him forward in his work.
He's not altogether incorrect. This job can be stressful, isolating. Crushing. The knowledge that Michael is thinking about him, that he cares so much not only about getting some food in John's stomach, but also about all the little, gentle details of how it's offered... it lends Ohnn a newfound, bubbly energy that he carries with him throughout the day.
And as he follows Mike's instructions and leaves a note of his own on the cleaned-out containers (a sticky-note reading "STELLAR !", framed with a smiley-face, some stars, and a scribbled-out doodle of O'Mara in his signature shades), he finds himself truly believing the little sticker.
Good things are ahead. For both of them.
