Suits Trevor _top_ Direct

Trevor didn’t deny it. He was a grifter. He’d always been a grifter. The difference was, he was finally being honest about it.

He was here to sell a story.

The doors closed. Trevor stood alone in the lobby, wearing his cheap jeans and a rumpled shirt. He didn’t have the suit. He never would. But for the first time in a long time, he had something better: a clean exit. suits trevor

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.” Trevor didn’t deny it

“The suit,” Harvey said. “You’re not him. But for ninety seconds, you almost looked the part.” The difference was, he was finally being honest about it

Trevor handed over a folded piece of paper and a brass key. “The ledgers are in a black footlocker. Third row, unit 147.”

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.”