got a copy of this at home , never got around to reading it .
he squinted at the kid standing before him before glancing down at the book in his hand . all harvey could do was make a small awkward sound of acknowledgement as he tried to chew down on the chunk of cinnamon roll still filling up his mouth . eventually he had swallowed down enough of the pastry to manage a " well you should " before surrendering and seeking the aid of his cup of coffee .
dent loved live music ; though these days he didn't indulge in cultural activities as much as he wished to , the district attorney recognised the energy which filled up a room in which a band was playing . and watching up and coming musicians slowly ignite before a crowd's eyes , well , it was something close to magic ( a sentiment harvey dent would never mention or admit to out loud ) .
he snapped the biography shut and regarded the cover for a second . " never been much of a drums guy myself but buddy rich is a pretty interesting guy . " dent glanced up at the drummer . he had seen him up on that stage and felt ashamed that he couldn't put a name to his face . mismatched eyes searched for anything on the other's plain black suit that could give him a hint ( anything ! ) on what to call him .
but all dent saw were thick bandaids with a distinct coagulated brown colour covering the skin which connected the thumb to the index . harvey half-smiled even though he didn't find anything amusing about that sight . " he'd have a thing or two to say about the state of your hands too . " he mentioned before having another sip of his coffee .