The Lengths That I Would Go To

[abrightboy]

The killer was moving around the country. Malcolm Bright could see the pattern, but he wasn't working for the FBI these days and they weren't exactly taking his calls. Short sighted of them, but they did fire him on suspicion of being crazy. The NYPD's jurisdiction was New York. With the killer beyond its borders, they handed it upwards and left it at that.

Let it go, Bright, had been Gil's sage advice. You can't catch every killer in America single-handedly.

Challenge accepted, some part of him retorted, though he'd only nodded mutely and forced a smile. Gil knew he hadn't simply let it go, but he wasn't going to have him followed to stop him doing anything stupid, either. He didn't have the will or the resources to keep tabs on Malcolm Bright 24/7 and Malcolm Bright knew it.

His mother, on the other hand, had extensive resources, so he simply didn't tell her he was leaving town. He did arrange for Ainsley to feed his bird, so the truth would come out eventually, but he'd be several states away by then.

He rode the bus. There was something oddly comforting about the anonymity of being in a crowd of strangers who had no interest in him whatsoever. He stared out the window and watched the country go by. When he stepped off the Greyhound in Lexington, Kentucky, he walked to a nearby hotel and checked in, then headed straight to the US Marshals office. There was no point in trying to talk to the FBI. If he was going to stop a killer from killing again, he needed someone in law enforcement to listen to him. The pattern suggested the next murder would happen in one of the rural communities around Lexington and it would be precipitated by a young woman's disappearance. He needed law enforcement with local knowledge, specifically.

He wandered into the Marshals' offices in a tidy three piece suit, charcoal grey with a burgundy tie perfectly knotted at his collar. He got a few suspicious sidelong glances but nobody asked if they could help him. He cleared his throat.

"Um, hello? I'm wondering if there's anyone here I can talk to about murder." He held up his hands. "Stopping murder, specifically, not... like... smalltalk."

Comments

[abrightboy]

"Yeah. Well. Through that window, more accurately. The bolt let go on the near side but held on the far side and I woke up dangling over the street like a fish on a hook. Glass everywhere. My mother was down on the street and saw the whole thing. I know this, because it was mostly her shouting that woke me up. That was a morning." His tone was good natured and matter of fact. These things: they happen, he seemed to be saying.

[tinstar]

"Jesus. Talk about a wake up call. Can't imagine that did anything to make her worry less." He couldn't even begin to imagine. Or, well he could but it wasn't his place and would be.. unnecessary.

"Though I suppose it's nice that she's here to care."

[abrightboy]

"Sometimes it is," he admitted. "Sometimes I try to change the locks and she screams at me when I fall out the window. It's double edged."

He took a sip of tea.

"Mostly the restraints keep me out of trouble," he assured the marshal.

[tinstar]

"Somehow I doubt that's really a true statement. You seem like the type to always be in trouble." Not exactly the kind of trouble that Malcolm had been talking about but Raylan could make the jump.

"And falling out the window demands a little screaming."

[abrightboy]

He laughed. "Well she took care of all of it; I was mostly trying to figure out if I was still asleep."

[tinstar]

"And yet, it's still there," he pointed out as though the problem was obvious. "If you're strong enough to tear out a wall bolt, Spiderman.."

[abrightboy]

"If your restraint bolts don't hold you, you get stronger bolts," he said. "There are carriage bolts holding those now, right through the frame on each side."

[tinstar]

"I feel like that just means you like it by the window," Raylan guessed with a smirk. "Well I hope they hold. You're stronger than ya look, you know." First hand experience and all.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm grinned.

"When you can't sleep, it's nice to have a view," he said, gesturing towards the window. "But they're not that bad every night. Most of the time." He took a sip of tea and then perked up suddenly. "Oh, hey, want me to go with you to the precinct? I could introduce you to Gil."

[tinstar]

"Oh so I got the Half Power special, good to know." Now he was just teasing him but that's what happened when Raylan got comfortable and started drinking.

"I am sure that Art would appreciate it. Man's convinced I'm going to fall into a bar or a gunfight in the middle of the day for some reason. Might find myself in Queens at Quarles's Daddy lives. Maybe they'll have found a decent hotel."

[abrightboy]

"Yeeeaaaah you should probably meet Gil before you go busting up people's fathers in his precinct," Malcolm conceded. "He doesn't like those kinds of phone calls when they're unexpected." Malcolm knew from experience. "But, honestly, if you need a place to crash, you can stay here. If you don't mind the potential of late night terrified screaming."

[tinstar]

"Does he like 'em any better when they are expected?" The question was asked under a smartass lift of one eyebrow. He doubted the answer would be yes.

"Nah, I wouldn't wanta put you out." He glanced over at the couch. "Doesn't much look like a couch that's the type for sleepin' on. More like sipping port or something." It was purely Southern Politeness - you never accepted those kinds of invitations on the first offer. The truth of it was that Raylan would have liked to stay, but that was something friends with a capital F did and Raylan wasn't sure if he counted as a guy who'd only met Malcolm a few times.

Yes, it was slightly hypocritical, but you can take it up with the South.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm looked over at the couch.

"...Really?" He hadn't considered whether it was a sleep appropriate couch. "I haven't slept on it," he confessed. "Because I can't. No restraints. But it's pretty soft to sit on?" He set his tea down and walked over, sitting on it heavily, so he bounced. "How can you recognize whether a couch is sleep-suitable?" he asked, thoroughly distracted by these logistics. He hadn't really had capital F friends. Raylan could maybe teach him how to recognize those too.

[tinstar]

"I take it naps are also an impossibility. I'd say you're missin' out, but considering your sleepin' habits already..."

At Malcolm's question, Raylan grinned and slipped back onto his feet to amble over and stand nearby.

"You sleep on enough couches, you can spot ones that aren't broken in. That thing is probably more expensive than my car. I'm going to devalue it by gracing it with the back of my jeans."

[abrightboy]

"What?" Malcolm said, as though that were absurd, twisting his neck to look up at Raylan. "Don't be ridiculous. Give it a try," he said, gesturing to the spot beside him. "I sit on it all the time."

[tinstar]

"I thought we were supposed to be meeting Gil." Despite that, he was coming around and making something of a show of sitting down. "I also somehow doubt you've worn jeans in a very long time."

[abrightboy]

"I wore jeans on Sunday!" Malcolm protested. They were, of course, very expensive designer jeans, but they were made of denim. He was sure they counted. He gestured to where Raylan was sitting. "You're not comfortable?"

[tinstar]

"Uh-huh." He hadn't realized it before then, but he found himself smirking far more often around Malcolm than not. Almost as much as when he was around Tim.

"It's not too bad. Passable. I guess if you're insisting.." He'd satisfied the demands of politness, right?

"I warn you, I snore."

[abrightboy]

"Well, I..." Oh. He looked over at Raylan. "It was never really about the couch, was it?" he realized. "The couch was your out and I took it away."

[tinstar]

"It was a little about the couch," Raylan admitted with a one sided bob of his head. "For a guy as sharp as you, I'd have thought you'd have picked up on more of the manners in the South. Trust me, it isn't a reflection on you," he assured, one eye half squinted before he drained the rest of his glass.

"Come on, let's go before both Gil and Art convene together to jointly frown in disapproval."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm got up, grabbing his suit jacket from a hook and slipping it on.

"...Are you going to stay?" he asked, still a bit confused by the whole weird manners thing.

[tinstar]

He couldn't help the crook of his smile as he grabbed his baseball cap and slid it on, adjusting it by the brim.

"If that counts as you asking again, yeah."

[abrightboy]

"So what you're saying," Malcolm surmised as he opened the door, holding it for Raylan, "is that there's, like, a combination lock of offering someone hospitality." He paused. "Wow, was it weird when I stayed at your dad's place on the first go, then? Was that a big faux pas?" And before Raylan could even get to that answer. "Why would anyone offer hospitality if they didn't want you to take them up on it?"

[tinstar]

He walked through, chuckling. "You'll get the hang of it, sooner or later," Raylan assured. "And no, it wasn't, because you had nowhere else to go. Trust me when I say you don't wanna stay at any 'motel' that Harlan might offer. Might wake up without your kidneys."

Trotting back down the stairs, Raylan opened the door in turn for Malcolm as they broke out onto the street.

[abrightboy]

He made a face at the kidneys remark.

"It's hard to investigate black market organ theft without your kidneys," he conceded. He glanced around and spotted a cab, raising his hand to hail it. "Did you say Art's in town or did he call Gil from Lexington?"