I don't know what I'm doing anymore. OH SHIT GUYS I THOUGHT I ADDED THIS DAYS AGO.

The puppy in Mike's arms looked like the dog in the Cesar dog food commercials, just smaller, more fragile. It—he, Mike checked,-was still shaking, probably still terrified of the man pressed up against the wall. Mike remembered reading that dogs had amazing senses of smell, and the puppy probably wouldn't calm down until he couldn't smell it's old owner anymore.

Old owner, because there's no way that Mike is going home tonight without the puppy.

On further examination, Mike sees that the puppy is bleeding in some spots, and no, that just won't do. He can deal with sobbing clients and angry bar hoppers with ease, but bleeding puppies? Those are things he can't handle, along with sad children and the elderly (seeing his Gram shed a tear absolutely kills Mike.) He shrugged out of his jacket, and used it to press against the pup's wounds, stemming the flow of blood. Sure, this was a new jacket, but it's not like he couldn't fix that one or get a new one.

He'd probably get a new one. Harvey would kill him if he found out that Mike had re-worn a jacket that had been bloody.

The more he thought about it, the more Mike wanted to be off of the sidewalk and in a veterinarian's office. The dog didn't look well at all; he was way too skinny for an animal of his breed. He whimpered occasionally, and wrapped up in the black suit jacket, he was about the saddest thing he'd ever seen.

He must've been tuning out the rest of the world—he's become exceptional at doing that, his eidetic memory works a lot better when he's not unconsciously memorizing what people are saying along with what words he's reading—because when he raised his head and looked at his boss to tell Harvey that he was leaving—the dog needed a vet and he'd work late if he can just take some time off and get it help—he was met with something completely unexpected. It probably shouldn't have surprised him—he wanted to do the same thing five minutes ago—but somehow, seeing his boss beating up the man just made him freeze.

His boss had some moves and damn, the man was lethal. Mike knew he boxed, but this? This was borderline traumatizing. The abuser had probably tried to defend himself in the beginning, because Mike sees marks on Harvey's clothing from the man's dirty hands, but now the man was just standing there taking it. Mike didn't know if he was just feeling ridiculously vulnerable after being verbally sexually-assaulted by the man and watching a puppy get kicked, but he didn't like violence right about now. Besides, Harvey had pocketed the money from the man's wallet—probably to pay for the dog, hopefully—so this all seemed pretty unnecessary in Mike's mind. Well, all the blows delivered after the first 8—Mike knew he wanted to do at least that in the beginning.

"Harvey." He called to his boss quietly. "The puppy needs help, let's get going to the vet, okay?"

Harvey just stood there, mid-blow, with a mildly confused look on his face. Mike sighed, it seemed like Harvey had completely lost himself in hurting the man. Damn, his boss was terrifying.

"He's bleeding, the puppy. I want to take it to a vet, so let's go, okay? Please? I'm sure this guy," he said, nodding to the battered abuser, "understands that hurting the weak is not acceptable. But I don't think the pup's alright."

Harvey's eyes widened, like he just realized what happened, and he stepped away from the man, uncharacteristically quiet. "Sure, Mike, let's go get the dog some help."

Review? It'd be greatly appreciated.:]