#rekant

Rattling off: "A verbal renter agreement for more than one year can't be legally enforced in New York." Mike knows Harvey knows that. Quoting law at Harvey is like ordering a girl her favorite drink (→ Macallan (→ 18 or 25) → Neat → Yeah, he knows that, too). "General Obligations Law section five seven zero one." Undeterred, Mike detours around and behind Harvey's desk. He curling-stones (→ Sports → Four signed baseballs (→ Jeter, Maris, Seaver, Wright) → Two gloves → Six signed basketballs (→ Bryant, Jordan, Ewing, Bird, Erving, McGrady)) chair-bound Harvey with a Canadian boop of his toecap to the spindly chair base (→ it doesn't have a better name, he's read the manual to double check → 'chair base' → 'star base'—which is the shape—would sound so much cooler) and approaches the transparent globe on the shelving previously behind Harvey's chair (& Co.) (→ Associate money → Online furniture shopping → Eames soft pad executive chair → Heeuuuh, he shouldn't kick things that cost more than his monthly rent → $4,011.85). Mike hunches over the globe and squints. What's been nagging at him since day one that he has never gotten a chance to verify: "Oooh. Your world's wrong."

"capisce?"

“I teach superheroes.”

he tilts his head, thinking, "do you even know if you have one?"

"i've got a boy name, so no judgement."

"The fear, the doubt, the longing, until they become prayer."

"SHTOP. EATING MY ORANGES."

Equally musing and challenging: "Will my opinion change yours?" As though what happens first is at all traditionally relevant to either of them.