A doctor. The word makes Harvey tense, then scowl; he's had a revolving door of doctors throughout the years, some he drove to nervous breakdown, at least one that killed himself. An objection hesitates behind his lips, wondering how to tell Matt that there was no one who could really help him.

When Matt touches him, Harvey's hand drops slowly to to brush Matt's with his fingertips as he breathes slowly and uneasily, searching for his vocabulary.

"I have medication," he says finally, in a lower voice. "Therapy never works for me."