Mike first noticed on a Wednesday.
He'd skipped breakfast that morning, and he'd spent his first five hours at work finishing a project for Harvey, so when he finally finished dotting the last i and crossing the last t all he could think about was rushing out of Harvey's office as fast as he could in his quest for food. He'd waved to Donna, hurried to the elevator, shot outside, and got in line at the nearest hotdog stand—behind Donna, who, judging by the three people after her, had been there for several minutes at least.
“What—” Mike spluttered. “How did you get here so fast?”
Donna turned and smiled. “Oh, hi Mike. Want me to get you something?”
“Did you take the stairs?” he asked, making a quick calculation in his head. “'Cause I don't think anyone wearing those shoes should be walking that fast.”
Donna raised an eyebrow. “Is there something wrong with my shoes?”
“No no no! I just… How did you get here so fast?”
The corner of her mouth quirked upwards. “I took the express route, Mike.”
The three men in between them stirred restlessly. “Hey, you wanna just go to the back?” the guy in the middle asked her.
Donna turned the full force of her gaze upon him and said nothing.
“Or… I could go to the back,” the man said, moving out from behind her. The other two shared a bewildered glance before trailing after him.
“That was amazing,” Mike said, moving to stand next to her.
“Please, Mike,” Donna said with a roll of her eyes. “I'm always amazing.” She turned to give her order to the hot dog vendor.
Something as she turned caught his eye. “Hey,” Mike said. “You've got some straw in your hair.”
An ordinary person might not have noticed the way she stiffened momentarily before casually reaching up to brush her fingers through her hair; but Mike wasn't an ordinary person.
He filed the memory away for future use.