Malcolm Bright

That suggestion made him smile despite himself and he ducked his head as it brightened his face.

"Sounds good," he said.

They reached the doors and Malcolm led the way with the practiced ease of someone who'd been to the registration desk and through the series of increasingly thick locked doors many times.

Finally they stepped through a locked door into a short empty hallway that ended in another locked door. A very tall guard nodded to Malcolm before leading the way down the hall, reading Raylan the Dr Whitly Riot Act.

Then he opened the door and Malcolm stepped in first, though Raylan was a head taller than him and hardly concealed behind him.

The unassuming man inside, dressed in inmate whites and a cozy beige cardigan, got up from his chair with a welcoming smile.

"Malcolm! My boy! What a pleasant surprise."

Malcolm's expression remained carefully neutral. "Dr Whitly," he replied formally.

"And who's your friend?" Martin asked, looking the taller man over.

"This is Deputy United States Marshal Givens," Malcolm explained, stepping aside. "He has some questions about an acquaintance of yours."

"Ooooh a Marshal." He all but rubbed his hands together. "They never tell me anything in here. Has someone escaped?" he asked eagerly.