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]

"Well. Water stays down easier," he admitted with a wince. That wasn't a pleasant thought. "But the low tannin level is just for the best possible pairing. Tomato soup is acidic..." he waved it off. "I'm actually happier with tea."

[tinstar]

Raylan couldn't help the curl of amusement in his face. "I meant to make the soup with, Malcolm, not on the side."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm nodded. "I know. I can't eat every kind of soup. I find cream soups too...heavy. Water based is better for me," he explained.

[tinstar]

"I shudder to what you'd think of gumbo," Raylan said with a chuckle, straightening himself as the waitress came back with their food and drinks, laying out Raylan's omelette and hash browns with iced tea and Malcolm's soup, crackers neatly tucked in packaged on the side.

"One day, I'm going to talk you into something more solid," he teased as he dug into cutting the omelette. "Gateway food."

[abrightboy]

"I like jello," Malcolm offered as he pushed the crackers towards Raylan. "That's ostensibly a solid."

[tinstar]

"Barely. It's held together by bone juice. What flavor?" he asked after consuming a bite, taking the crackers and opening them only to dip one corner into Malcolm's soup, quickly
transferring it into his mouth before he sogged out. There was a half thought afterwards as to if Malcolm would mind, but it was too late now.

"Helen would say that you're far too skinny."

[abrightboy]

The cracker dipping made him smile. It was a familiar sort of gesture; something a friend would do and he recognized it as such.

"Lemon. Then orange. Then cherry." A beat. "I won't go through all of them. But peach is at the very, very bottom."

The comment about Helen made him smile even wider, with a hitch of a laugh. "Helen would probably be right." He looked up at Raylan suddenly, pointing at him with his spoon. "Sometimes I eat chicken."

[tinstar]

"I'll keep that in mind," he replied, far too amused that Malcolm had a grading scale for the flavors of Jello. "No peach."

It felt good to see Malcolm smile and grin after the shit they just went though and Raylan did look a little pleased with himself for it, breaking into a half grin at the spoon being pointed at him.

"Helen usually was. That's a good start. Wish you coulda had her fried chicken. Only rivaled in the county by Ava's... Well, til she shot her last husband over dinner. Not that he didn't have it comin' but.. Ya know. Puts people off."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm leaned forward with interest.

"Did he complain about the chicken?" he asked with a nod. Motive, right?

[tinstar]

Raylan grinned. "Believe it or not, yes. There was a lot more too it, but.. One night, one opinion too many..." Raylan gestured, filling out the statement by allusion. "There's a reason I watch what I say over food."

And why he had no issue thinking that women could be just as, if not more, dangerous with firearms.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm grinned. "Well. You may not believe this, but my mother doesn't cook," he mock-revealed. "Shocking, I know."

He ate a spoonful of soup.

"She did always expect us to be respectful to the staff. I don't think she was worried about them shooting us if we weren't, though. Maybe more about them telling tabloids a story about how rude the Surgeon's children were or something."

[tinstar]

"Your mother?" Raylan gasped teasingly before breaking back into grin and taking another bite of his breakfast.

"Shooting and not poisoning? Seems like an easier way to do it, in my opinion. But I'm sure your family paid well enough for that to not be a problem. Do I get to ask where you guys get your money? Was it just from Martin's earnings as a doctor? I know they do well but.." He wasn't sure any doctor of that type lived the same level of lifestyle as Malcolm was used to.

[abrightboy]

"Of course you can ask! I...actually would have volunteered it, but I'm used to people knowing, I guess." He contemplated that for a moment, then shrugged off the tangent and looked at Raylan. "My mother's family are the Miltons. They're one of New York's oldest and wealthiest families. The money is and always was hers. My father made decent money, but not until he got established, after they were married."

[tinstar]

That... Well, Raylan wasn't sure what he was expecting but Old New York money wasn't one of them. "Art might know the name.." He scoffed a chuckle that didn't really reach his mouth and shook his head. "Your father really hit the jackpot and then messed it up, didn't he."

It was a little mind boggling, when it was all put together.

"But good for your mother, keeping her hands on what's hers." Raylan knew how badly no money or poor money could affect a life; he equally understood how that worked on the upper side of the scale. "I imagine that's what put you through private schools?"

Boarding seemed too distant for these parents and the idea of Malcolm in the swamp that is public schools was.. laughable.

[abrightboy]

He gave Raylan a mock-suspicious look. "How did you know I went to private schools? Profiling is supposed to be my thing," he teased.

He had, in fact, also gone to boarding school for a couple of years, when he started high school. His mother had thought that, if he got away from the house and the family and the daily reminders, maybe he'd stop seeing his father. The problem was, the daily reminders were inside his head and they always would be. After Vijay stopped hanging around with him, he'd fit in less and less there until his mother pulled the plug on that experiment and decided he could at least do with the chance to get into a prestigious college and put him in the most academically stringent private school in New York. He'd always done well with academics. Socialization less so.

"But yes. It put us both through private schools. And various extracurriculars. And prestige colleges."

He took a bite of soup.

"Though, to her credit, my mother has gone from despairing of my career choice daily to only weekly or even biweekly."

[tinstar]

"Not really a reach," Raylan said, smirking at him and took another bite of his breakfast. The idea of a young Malcolm standing in Harlan's Elementary School playground with the rest of the dirty kids, dressed in hand me down jeans and shirt was one Raylan couldn't imagine.

His brow pinched again briefly. "'Us'? And what'd she want you to be?" Somehow, he also couldn't imagine Malcolm doing.. anything else, in a similar way to his own lawman inevitability. With their fathers being who they were, did they really have any other choice?

[abrightboy]

"Me and my sister," he said matter-of-factly. "She wasn't exempt from over-bearing interference, though she's on TV, so her career gets slightly more approval." He considered the potential career paths that would have pleased his mother. "I think she would have been happier if I was... an attorney? Not a public defender or anything of the ilk that deals with real criminals, of course. More like... corporate tax law or something. Or a CEO. Or.... I don't know. A politician?" He considered that answer, then looked at Raylan. "Whatever 'normal' trust fund kids do?"

He'd never considered any other career. His determination to study killers and use that knowledge to catch them had been laser-focused since his father's arrest. His obsession with murder disturbed his mother. He knew that. It disturbed a lot of people. He knew that too. Because he was the son of a killer and everyone seemed to think being obsessed with killers - even with stopping them - was one step onto a slippery slope of becoming one.

[tinstar]

"There are two of you?" He really needed to.. well, read better, honestly. The newspapers had mentioned Martin had two children but Raylan had a bit of tunnel vision when he read it, and that's what he's going to blame it on. Just an incorrect focus.

"So your mother got a profiler and a journalist out of those high class colleges. I think you would have made a terrible politician. Far too honest." Malcolm's face would have broken a lot of hearts, but that doesn't help much with actually fighting the fights in the hall.

"I'm glad she's not giving you hell about it. Like I said, you're good at your job." Raylan leaned back and checked his phone. "Art says he'll be ready in ten with some information and direction."

[abrightboy]

"Two Whitly children. Two potential nascent murderers, according to one early news article from a local paper my mother sued literally into the ground. She thought we didn't see the article, but Ainsley got a copy from someone at school and snuck it home in her homework and we read it in my room under the guise that I was helping her study."

He shrugged.

"We heard our mother shouting at her lawyer on the phone; we wanted to know what all the fuss was about."

He shoveled in a couple more spoonfuls of soup and then left it.

"Where does he want us to meet him?"

[tinstar]

Raylan's mouth tightened a little around the edges at the paper's opinion on the Whitly children, but he busied it with finishing the rest of his plate and taking a single bite of toast before dropping it on the plate to wash it down with the rest of his coffee.

"I bet that paper regretted it's editor." He glanced at the phone at the next question. "Seems to be only a block or two from here. Walking might be faster, considering your traffic. Your shoes ready for that? Got scuff insurance?"

Now he was just teasing.

[abrightboy]

"That paper regretted many things," Malcolm agreed, getting some money out of his wallet and throwing it on the table before standing up.

At the remark about his shoes he looked down at them and then paused and then grinned.

"I walk a lot, actually. I live in New York." He moved to where Raylan was, leaning in to look at his phone. "Can I see the address?"

[tinstar]

Raylan was sure it did, if the way Jessica swept into the room that morning had been any indication. Jessica didn't seem one to mess with, if you wanted to retain all your fingers and money.

"Next meal, I'm buyin'," Raylan warned, handing over his phone as he drained his coffee cup, fished into his wallet to pull out an extra 10 to throw on the table, and gesture for Malcolm to back-up a fraction so he could get out comfortably.

"Do you know where that is?"

[abrightboy]

Malcolm nodded as he stepped back, holding out Raylan's phone to him.

"Yeah. I know where it is." He pointed to the table. "And I owed you this one. For parental aggravation."

He felt his phone buzz in his pocket and fished it out as they walked out of the restaurant. He looked at Raylan. "Apparently my sister is going to be at the gala tomorrow. She's asking if I'm going." A beat. "Actually, she's telling me that I better be going, because if she has to get strong-armed into it then so do I." He tucked his phone away without answering the text.

[tinstar]

Great - Malcolm could lead the way. Raylan took his phone back with a smirk and a pat on Malcolm's shoulder. "All parents are aggravating."

Malcolm was worth it. Raylan was glad to know the man and his family, as messed up as it was. It wasn't Raylan's experience of messed up, but it was a similar flavor and he couldn't help but get slightly emotionally attached. Not after all he's already seen.

"You sure you don't have any Grandparents or cousins I have to meet?" he joked as he followed Malcolm out. "Are you not going to text her back?"

[abrightboy]

"None of them have spoken to us since my father was arrested," Malcolm told him matter-of-factly. "So you're safe there."

At the question about the text, he winced slightly.

"Let's see if we catch this guy first."