#harvey.

“charlie,” it’s a warm, welcoming greeting. “you look amazing tonight.” he tells her, and his tone is genuine as he settles in beside her at the bar. the thudding bass of the strip club fills his ears, leaves his head echoing the feeling, hungover ( as always ), and flinching a little as the music crescendos. harvey does not look amazing tonight, he’s sporting twenty pound bags under both eyes and a brand new shiner on one, his lip is split and his fingers are wrapped shakily around his iced coffee. he’s wearing all of this with absolute confidence and charm, but he’s an undeniable mess, nonetheless.  he slips her an eighth with an effortless sleight of hand, and smiles at her as he takes a sip of his starbucks. “shit’s sticky.” he tells her. “indica, obviously.” he waits, patiently, for payment.