Fics like the smoke ain't gone (but it's clearing)

Haircut. Cheap suit. Briefcase filled with fucking weed. Exchange for money. Go home. In that order. It doesn’t work out that way, because nothing ever does. There’s undercover cops stationed outside of the hotel room where Mike’s supposed to do this, and Trevor isn’t answering his fucking phone, so all he can do is run. And he might've gotten away, too, if he hadn't run head-first into some short, balding guy holding a fucking cat in his arms like it's a human child. - Mike gets arrested carrying a briefcase filled with weed. He's not interested in having a public defender - he's not interested in lawyers, period. He's definitely not interested in one in a fancy suit with a rod up his ass who thinks quoting movies is enough to build rapport. Joke's on him, though, because Harvey doesn't even really want to represent him, either.

Fics like the smoke ain't gone (but it's clearing)

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