Trevor continued. “I don’t want money. I don’t want a job. I want you to put this on. I want you to walk me out of this building, past the security desk, past the partners, and get into the elevator with me. I want them to see Harvey Specter and a guy in his suit. That’s it. That’s the price.”
The doors opened to the marble lobby. Trevor stepped out. Harvey stayed inside, the doors starting to close. suits trevor
Trevor met his gaze. “Because Mike believed in second chances. He was wrong about a lot of things, but he wasn’t wrong about you. You gave him one. I just want to see what it feels like.” Trevor continued
The fluorescent lights of the bullpen hummed a low, accusatory note. Trevor Evans shifted the weight of the duffel bag on his shoulder, feeling the phantom itch of a cheap wool blend beneath his fingers. He wasn’t wearing the suit yet. It was folded inside the bag, a calculated prop. I want you to put this on
Trevor handed over a folded piece of paper and a brass key. “The ledgers are in a black footlocker. Third row, unit 147.”
“Trevor,” Harvey said, just before the gap sealed.