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

[tinstar]

He scoffed a half laugh of a sound and adjusted his jacket again before the honking came. "Ready as I'll ever be, I suppose." Though his hat got a long look before Raylan stepped through the door so that Malcolm could lock up behind them.

He had a feeling this was gonna be a long dinner.

[abrightboy]

The gala was at an enormous banquet hall at the Plaza Hotel. Malcolm gave their names at the door and they were told which table their seats were at.

As they made their way through the maze of tables, Malcolm looked at Raylan. "Doing okay so far?"

[tinstar]

It was only a slightly overwhelming hall with all it's glamour and silk-wrapped bodies and the only thing Raylan really worried about was someone pointing him out as a fraud that shouldn't be there. But Malcolm's question made him smile, albeit crookedly as he took his seat.

"I feel like rooms this large is why everyone's in such good shape. Lotta walking." Once he was seated, he glanced around. "I can see why people drink at these things."

[abrightboy]

"They're also rich as hell," Malcolm pointed out. "Personal chefs and personal trainers do a lot for a fitness level."

Malcolm had neither, but he knew this world.

Malcolm sat down on Raylan's right, leaving the centre seat facing the MC for his mother, who hadn't arrived yet. Then Raylan would be a nice-sized buffer between her and Malcolm's... well, depending on her mood, she would consider them either his 'dietary requirements' or his 'picky eating'.

"Other than it being free?" he joked at Raylan's quip. He flagged down a waiter and ordered a scotch for himself, then looked to Raylan for his order.

[tinstar]

Malcolm didn't need one of each either. "That's true, I have not seen a lot of fat rich people."

The Marshal glanced at the empty chairs as he got comfortable, scoffing a grin. "Ain't that the best kind? Scotch for me as well please," he said, directing the last politely at the waiter.

"I can't tell if we're early or everyone else is late. What is this thing for again? A.. fundraiser? I suppose I should just wait for the show to start instead of asking but.." The words were already out there now.

[abrightboy]

"I believe this benefit is to raise money to fight human trafficking. My mother's been working with this human rights lawyer for a couple of months now for the cause."

He glanced around.

"And she would never show up on time for something."

[tinstar]

He lifted his eyebrows with an approving bob of his head as he took to people watching those that had already gathered. He couldn't help it, really. The Marshal in him was already running down the list of White collar crimes that some of those collected had already done and it wasn't small. As much as he tried to see the best of people, the statistics alone were in his favor.

"Always fashionably late?" Raylan smirked. "Your family likes to be showstopper, don't they?" If Malcolm was included in that, it was purely a compliment.

"That's her day job, huh? Charities?" He couldn't imagine how that worked but he was sure that it had, flawlessly by any outsiders estimation.

[abrightboy]

"Charity work is her passion. She sat on a couple of the major charities' boards when I was a kid. She donates anonymously now, though. Most charities won't take her money if her name is attached."

He glanced at Raylan.

"Too scandalous for their stomachs."

[tinstar]

He shook his head slightly. "It's not like she was part of it.." Dark eyes returned to Malcolm with an unspoken question. Was she?

"Nice that she's still doing good works despite of it." And he did really mean it - he might not have money or know rich people, outside of Malcolm, it went against the idea that was largely presented to the world and that he could appreciate.

"Does she drag you to these kind of things often?"

[abrightboy]

"She wasn't. She had suspicions about my father, but she thought he was having an affair. It turned out to be much worse than that."

He glanced around. "Now and then. Sometimes she drags my sister. Sometimes both of us."

The waiter brought their drinks and a moment later Jessica Whitly swept up to the table with Ainsley right behind her.

"Darling! You made it," she exclaimed, giving Malcolm a broad grin. She offered her hand to Raylan. "Nice to see you again," she told him. "Ainsley," she said, beckoning her daughter over. "This is Malcolm's guest, Raylan."

Malcolm took closed his eyes to take a deep breath and release a long suffering sigh.

"Ainsley Whitly," she told Raylan, smirking at Malcolm while offering her hand.

[tinstar]

Something in Raylan's face settled at the reassurance. He liked Jessica from what he'd seen of her and she was clearly smart as a whip; he didn't like having those doubts around those kind of people.

"Clearly tonight it's both of you," he sounded softly in warning with a facial bob of thanks towards the waiter as he took his drink, stealing a sip before abandoning it to stand and shake Jessica's and Ainsley's hands with a polite bob of his head. There was another impulse to help them into their chairs but that one got wrestled into the back and gagged.

"Ma'am." There was almost a tip of a hat, but no hat to be found and miraculously, Raylan kept his hand where it should be for each shake. Ainsley got a "Nice to meet you," before he sat back down. "The suit fits perfectly by the way," he started towards Jessica, glass finding his hand again. "You'll have to send me the bill so that I've got at least one thing in my closet that isn't cotton or denim."

Oh, he saw the smirks and the looks, but what they meant was a little beyond his understanding just yet but they meant something, he knew that much.

[abrightboy]

"The bill," Jessica exclaimed with a dismissive wave. "Please. Consider it a gift for agreeing to come," she told him, already flagging down a waiter to order a glass of wine.

"I understand you're a United States Marshall," Ainsley, seated on the opposite side of Jessica from Raylan, said. "What jurisdiction were you in before you came here?"

[tinstar]

Raylan couldn't do anything other than take that with an accepting lift of his eyebrows. "Well in that case, thank you. Much appreciated." He wouldn't be here without it, that was for sure. His attention turned to Ainsley at her question and he glanced down with his soft chuckle.

"I am not 'here' in such a sense. As a Marshal, we've kinda got jurisdiction anywhere, within reason." His head tilted a little, chin lifting slightly. "Malcolm watches your reports on TV. You sound like a solid journalist."

He knew that Ainsley would likely search his name the first chance she got, but this wasn't the kinda place where one admitted that there were be a bloody file to be found on him.

"So it won't take you long to find out that I'm currently assigned to Lexington, Kentucky. We're due to be leaving tomorrow, which is the other reason that I can afford to be here without a work conflict."

[abrightboy]

Ainsley smiled when Raylan said she sounded like a solid journalist, but turned a quizzical look towards Malcolm when Raylan mentioned he was leaving the next day, which he shut down with a warning look.

"Lexington. I've never been to Kentucky," she directed at Raylan like nothing had happened. "Do they keep you busy there?"

[tinstar]

There was no helping the glance back at Malcolm just in time to catch his warning look, and somewhere, in the back of the Marshal's head, a light bulb flickered to life.

"Trust me, there's not much of anything to see, unless you've got a pension for dead trees and a lotta open land." It was subtle, but Raylan was making sure to mind his accent to stop it from lapsing too far. He knew full well how a good accent could build up some very incorrect assumptions. "But they do, yes. We're currently looking to stop some domestic terrorism that's rooted in a nearby county. An outlying connection and problem of it's own is why we're up here and the NYPD was kind enough to loan Malcolm to us."

He wasn't going to ask about or use last names here; that felt like a whole can of worms.

[abrightboy]

"Domestic terrorism?" Ainsley said, her interest immediately piquing.

Jessica put her hand up. "We are not talking about horrific crimes here tonight," she said, giving each of her children a stern look, but lingering on Malcolm - who had yet to really say anything - a little longer, to be sure he understood.

He took a sip of his drink and promised nothing.

Jessica looked at Raylan and set her hand on his arm, leaning towards him slightly. "How have you enjoyed New York?"

[tinstar]

While Raylan wasn't visibly relieved, he completely was. The last thing he wanted to talk about was work but he'd also talked to a journalist or two and Ainsley was clearly hungry in the best way for one to be in that kind of business. He chose the easier, wiser path and sat back with a little nod of concession and a friendly enough curl of his lips before his attention was pulled by Jessica again.

"It's quite a city," he praised, giving her his most charming Good ol' boy smile. "Shiny and rough in all the promised places. I'm a little disappointed that I don't have time to go to Ellis Island, but maybe the US Marshal's service will find another case that I might be in these parts for, get the time to go sight seeing properly. I understand you and your family have been here for a long time, if you've got some suggestions on what I ought to see, as a native yourself.."

He understood the kind of woman Jessica was. There was a certain amount of attention to be paid for her to feel as shiny as she was and while it bordered on small-talk, Raylan was genuinely interested what the first thing to come to one who was used to living the way the Whitly's were would come to mind. He also understood that he was something of a buffer for her sharp eyed attentions on Malcolm and considering he knew roughly how much a suit like the one he was wearing was worth, he could occupy Jessica with a little charm while working that glass of scotch.

[abrightboy]

"Oh, well you absolutely must see the Met," she informed him. "I'd be happy to take you if it's not gruesome enough for Malcolm's taste," she said, giving him a look.

He shrugged broadly.

A photographer approached the table and snapped a picture of the four of them as he passed.

A waiter started setting soup in front of each of them.

"I'd also recommend a Broadway show. It's the sort of thing people expect from a visit to New York," she noted, letting go of his arm to pick up her soup spoon.

[tinstar]

Raylan glanced at Malcolm, taking the chance to be listening to take a healthy drink of his scotch, suddenly even more grateful for the open bar. It was going to get use. Murmuring a thank you at the waiter, he nodded at Jessica's recommendations with a crooked smile.

"Well we'll have to see if the wind brings me back. Maybe then I'll be able to add the ghost of 'Cultured' to my general resume," he joked, happy to have a spoon and food to occupy his mouth. Desperately, he wished he knew the rhythm or decorum of these things. He was sure he'd be doing better if he did.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm tried a tentative bite of the soup. He'd have to give it a minute to know. He set his spoon down.

"Mother, have you had any interesting calls to your tip line this week?"

She looked up, looking for his spoon and visibly noted it laying down beside his bowl.

"Nothing promising," she said with a sigh. "Are you eating?"

"I'm working up to it."

She directed a new sigh at him and signaled the waiter for another glass of wine. "I hope you're not intending to nurse one bowl of soup through four courses."

"No," he deadpanned. "People might look at us oddly."

[tinstar]

Raylan took another bite, glancing at Ainsley for her general opinion on Jessica's clear worry about how much her son was eating, one that he knew would have been clubbed over Malcolm's head had he been born in the south.

"If it helps," he offered with a soft clearing of his throat, "He's eaten a couple of times over the past couple of days. I've been trying to get as much down him when he's nice enough to buy me dinner. Which I am sure the Marshal's will be happy to reimburse," he said, turning to Malcolm to draw him into it, even while bumping his knee with Raylan's own. He didn't mean it, he knew Malcolm didn't want to be repaid and he understood the spirit that the dinners were given in, but they were playing something of a game here, a social one.

"Though I imagine you'll say the same as your mother," he foretold with a smirk.

[abrightboy]

He huffed a laugh.

"Getting to help catch a violent offender was all the repayment I needed," Malcolm replied.

"Of course it was," Jessica noted dryly, taking a sip of wine.

"She knows Malcolm eats," Ainsley said, shooting her mother a look. "He couldn't have stayed alive for 33 years without eating."

"Once I work it out, though," Malcolm promised, picking up his spoon to poke it in the air. "Then it's over." He took another small bite of soup.

[tinstar]

"Of course," Raylan said towards Ainsley with a pull of his smile. "But soup isn't much when it's eaten rarely, and I know she doesn't keep that close a tally." The cross conversation was something he was used to - the south was incapable of having a straight conversation when too many people were at a table.

"I'm working him up towards this chicken I hear he'll eat. The south has a mean fried chicken and if he's going to hang around with me, I aim to put a little health on him."

[abrightboy]

He made a face. "Fried. Maybe not. How about baked chicken and I'll peel the breading off," he offered.

"That's the best offer you're going to get," Ainsley assured him.

[tinstar]

Raylan chuckled. "You won't know the difference, I promise you. You can still pick off the breading and I won't be offended." Dark hazel eyes turned back onto Ainsley.

"I imagine your job is as exciting as mine; How'd you get into it?"