Call Me Bright.

No one's born broken. Someone BREAKS us. 

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𝐀𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐲✦𝐀𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐏𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡​:

When he had gotten the phone call, he wasn’t sure if someone was pulling a fast one on him, but a quick call to the local precinct confirmed that yes, Ainsley Whitly, news reporter and the daughter of the Surgeon had been arrested for murder. Currently the media wasn’t running the story but chances were they would soon, even if he filed an injunction to prevent it. Someone would find out, and once they did, the story would blow up. Taking on this case felt like a huge honor, and an opportunity to get a nice fat pay check. Jessica said he had come highly recommended, and why wouldn’t he be? He was one of the best, an impressive feat for someone in their early to mid 30s. For now, Ainsley was being remanded in custody, it was one of the first things he intended to fix. It had only been 48hrs since her arrest. He didn’t doubt that the family had the money to pay bail, but if the judge didn’t think Ainsley was safe to be outside of a cell, then money wasn’t going to change that (unless they had a crooked judge). It would be his skills that convinced them to let Ainsley have bail, and he was more than up for the challenge. First, he needed information to work off of. He had already had an initial meeting with Ainsley, but unfortunately she didn’t remember anything. It would work in her favour down the line, but right now Anthony needed as much information as possible. So he was going to the next best person; the witness and Ainsley’s brother. He had gotten the address from Jessica, and was now outside the building pressing on the buzzer. The outside of the building looked… Less than appealing. Wasn’t the guy supposed to be loaded? Why was he living in a dump like this? The front was covered in graffiti and had a metal door that looked like it belonged in a warehouse. It made no sense that someone with that much family money would live in such a squalor. God, he hoped he wouldn’t need a tetanus shot after being here

Malcolm had been reeling from the last few days, the excitement and shock of what had occurred in their childhood home. Malcolm kept reliving that moment over and over again, the image of his sister dragging the knife across Endicott’s throat in a fit of blacked out rage, was vivid and clear as day. He blamed himself for not taking matters into his own hands sooner, now his baby sister was behind bars. She was confused, she had no recollection of what she had done and he hoped it stayed that way. He feared the more she remembered the worse it would be for her. On the other hand, he knew what trauma like that does to a person.

When his mother had told him that she had hired a pretty high profile lawyer for Ainsley’s defense, Malcolm didn’t know whether he was relieved or worried. Usually when it came to Jessica calling in favors, it didn’t always end well, but at the moment they were desperate and Malcolm was willing to try anything to keep his sister safe. He didn’t know much about the lawyer personally but was familiar with the name from around the precinct, Anthony Whitten had a reputation, that could be good or bad depending on who was asked. If it was his team, the responses wouldn’t be great but if someone was to ask Malcolm now? Me might just bet all his money on this horse. If it meant redeeming Ainsley and finally washing their lives clean of Nicholas Endicott, he would take that gamble. 

He had been told to expect Anthony sometime during the day to go over details of that night and honestly, Malcolm was nervous. Not much made Malcolm Bright nervous, he was surprisingly cool under pressure, despite his unraveling psychosis and overall efforts to keep his mental state together. He was trying to calm himself down by drinking some tea and reminding himself that this was only a talk, a discussion to build a better defense for Ainsely. He jumped slightly when he heard his buzzer go off and exhaled a bit, shaking his head he got up and walked over to the door to let his guest up. He pressed the buzzer, unlocking the giant steel door before speaking, “Come on up. Door is unlocked.” He made sure to unlock the door to his apartment as well, making for less steps once the famed attorney made his way upstairs. 

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𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐢✦𝐃𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐏𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥:

Dani’s brows creased slightly when he finally gave in, watching his hands go into his pockets for a second then turning her attention back to his features.  She wasn’t the profiler, she didn’t specialize in the telltale signs of people lying- though from growing up in the Bronx and working undercover she had her fair share of practice…but to be fair that might just be her lack of trust talking.  But over the past couple months she liked to think she knew her friend well, and could read his emotions without too much trouble.  But right now, there wasn’t a single hint as if he had truly given up on Martin yet.  

“Okay,” she replied, almost hesitantly then nodded towards the street.  “C’mon…we got time before we have to head back.  Let’s just clear our heads for a little bit.”

She was quiet for a while, letting the cold air whip between them, giving her a chance to think clearer- though she couldn’t help her thoughts from going back to Gil’s body in that hospital room, which unfortunately brought up her own father’s image as he lay on a hospital bed…though there was much more blood…and he wasn’t breathing anymore.  Quickly Dani shuddered at the thought, forcing herself to snap back to reality.  

“So….do you want to talk about it?  Whatever your dad was implying back there?   Or do you just want to drop it?”

Malcolm was quiet as they walked, maybe for the first time in forever. He was never quiet. But with all the thoughts and questions in his mind, he had to sort though them, try to make sense of it all. He also knew that he had to maintain some form of togetherness, some type of support system for the rest of the team. They were all hurting without Gil. He debated on answering Dani’s question, wondering if he should even open that can of worms though he decided talking might help. 

He let out a sigh and thought of where to even begin. “Martin Whitly was good at hiding the majority of his...deeds from out family. Majority of the time, it was no one we knew, though that didn’t make it a lesser crime. But as I got older after he was arrested and I studied his crimes, his victims, I realized sometimes they were friends of our family, acquaintances. The guy committing these murders? I know him”, he told Dani as he looked over at her. It really shouldn’t be a surprise now whether he knows one of the people they happen to be investigating. “We were friends, when I was younger, but...his father ended up becoming one of my father’s victims...so you can imagine how that ended.” 

As usual, Malcolm’s urges to reach the good in people, reach people at their very core of what made them tick would be put to the test. He needed answers from his father on what caused his original crime so he could prepare the team on what his former friend’s motives are. 

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Hello, hello!! I’ve been quiet here the last few days! Work has been leaving me drained lately but I plan on getting replies sent out soon. Bear with me, I promise they’ll be worth it! 😘😘

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𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧♱𝐎𝐟𝐒𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬​:

𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗋 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝖺𝗋 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝖾𝗑𝗁𝖺𝗎𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗉𝗁𝗒𝗌𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌. 𝖨𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝖿𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗎𝗅𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗈𝗇𝖾, 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍. 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌. 𝖯𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗓𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗁𝗒𝗌𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗍𝗁 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗎𝗅𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗈𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝖼𝖾. 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝖼𝖾𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗅𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗂𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝖺𝗇𝖾, 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝖿𝖾𝗐 𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗄𝗌 𝗂𝗇 ‘𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖾’ 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍.

𝖧𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗈𝗇𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗎𝖻𝗌𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗍𝗁 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝗏𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌. 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝖾, 𝗂𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝗂𝗉 𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝖿𝖿; 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾, 𝗈𝗋 𝗂𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇’𝗍 𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝗒 𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖼𝗎𝖿𝖿𝗌; 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗂𝗋, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖿𝗅𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗈𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗈𝖼𝗎𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗒. 𝖨𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗎𝖿𝖿𝗈𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽, 𝗂𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗁𝗈𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉.

𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗍 𝖬𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗆 𝗐𝖺𝗌. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗄𝗂𝖽,𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖺𝗒. 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍’𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗒 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗍𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗑𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝗌𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖩𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖼𝖺 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾’𝖽 𝗆𝖾𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖬𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗂𝖻𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝖾𝗋. 𝖧𝖾’𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗈𝗅𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖬𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇, 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝖬𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗆𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗎𝗇𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝖬𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝖽, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗌𝗂𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖺𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽𝗌. 𝖬𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗆 𝗌𝖺𝖽𝗅𝗒; 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍. 𝖠𝗌 𝖺 𝗄𝗂𝖽, 𝗁𝖾’𝖽 𝖽𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗐, 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇.  “𝖯𝖾𝗋𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗌 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗇𝗍.”

𝖬𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖬𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗆, 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗎𝗇𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗎𝗇𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾’𝖽 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖬𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗆 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝗄𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝗂𝖼 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗇𝖾𝗋𝗌. 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖬𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽, 𝖬𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗆 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗉𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖨𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖺 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗁𝗅𝗈𝗋𝗈𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗉 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗁 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝗆𝗈𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗅𝗒. 𝖨𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽, 𝗐𝗁𝗒 𝖦𝗈𝖽 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗎𝗇𝖿𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝖽, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾’𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖺 𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗍, 𝖺 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗅, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽. 𝖧𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗉𝖾𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗐.

𝖬𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗆 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖺𝗂𝗅 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽. 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖦𝗈𝖽, 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗂𝗉𝗅𝖾, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗉𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖤𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅. 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖦𝗈𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗐𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗒 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌, 𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗄𝖾𝗉𝗍 𝗌𝖺𝖿𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗐. 𝖨𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝖬𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗆 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗀. 𝖶𝖺𝗌 𝖦𝗈𝖽 𝗉𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇? 𝖮𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗁𝖾’𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖬𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗆? 𝖮𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝖦𝗈𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗅𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗆? 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖿𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗈𝗌.

“𝖦𝗈𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖨 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾, 𝗈𝗋 𝗐𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗐𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝗎𝗉 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝖾.” 𝖠𝗌 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗅𝖾𝖽𝗀𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝖻𝗈𝗇𝖽, 𝗂𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗎𝗉 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖬𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗆 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀. “𝖶𝗁𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌? 𝖶𝗁𝗒 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋?” 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗂𝖿 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖬𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗆, 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖾 𝖺 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗎𝗉𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗅. “𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖾𝗑𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗏𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗌𝖾𝖽?” 𝖧𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗎𝖻𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗋𝗉𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝖦𝗈𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖬𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗆, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝖽𝖾𝖿𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖦𝗈𝖽'𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗎𝗌, 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿𝗂𝗌𝗁𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝗂𝗇. “𝖨 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝖼𝖼𝖾𝗉𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗋𝗉𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝖾𝗃𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍, 𝗌𝗈 𝗐𝗁𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖨 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝗈𝗐?”

Malcolm already knew that coming to talk to John like this, to seek him out in this manner after what had occurred between them, it was a long shot. Why would John be open to hearing what he had to say? Why should he be? After all, Malcolm was the reason he was behind bars, suffering this much and granted, he was where he needed to be for what he had done. Or so Malcolm had originally thought but now....he felt differently. Mainly because he needed John to guide him through this new journey, he needed his experience. He needed him. He let out a light, scoffing chuckle when John mentioned he needed to learn patience. That word again. “𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐮𝐱𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰...”

He shook his head slightly, beginning to second guess his decision to visit John, he obviously wasn’t going to take to this lightly. Then a thought occurred to Malcolm and a small smirk crept onto his face as another thought occurred to him. Perhaps he could appeal to John another way. Changing his approach, he got up from his seat at the table, fastening the button on his suit jacket. “𝐌𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐣𝐨𝐛. 𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐢𝐬...𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝. 𝐇𝐞’𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈’𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬. 𝐇𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐮𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞.” The profiler slowly walked around the table, just a little closer to John, but he didn’t get far before the guard at the door warned him to stay back. Malcolm put his hands up defensively, obliging the orders and took a step back. “𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.” 

“𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤, 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧. 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐞’𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭? 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞. 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐮𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧, 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞?”, he asked, raising an eyebrow, blue eyes focused on the man across from him. He paused a moment to let his words sink in some, hoping John would bite like he wanted him to. He lowered his voice some before he spoke again, leaning just slightly closer to the other, “𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐦𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞, 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧. 𝐖𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐈 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧, 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲.”

He searched the other’s face, trying to find any inclination that John was coming around to what he was saying. Malcolm’s eyes traveled over his face, studying his features, prison hadn’t been kind but he could still note the resolve and pride John held onto, a resolve he hoped would be to his benefit. Both of theirs really, seeing as he wanted so desperately for Malcolm to realize his own purpose. “𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩, 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧. 𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮.”  

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𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 ♱ 𝐎𝐟𝐒𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬​:

𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖬𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗆'𝗌 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗍. 𝖧𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗎𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖿𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇, 𝖺𝗍 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗅, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇, 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗎𝗂𝗇𝖾, 𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇. 𝖧𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖬𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗆’𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗅𝗎𝖾. 𝖲𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗒, 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗏𝖾𝖽, 𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗋𝗒? 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗇𝗈 𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖺, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇.

𝖬𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗆 𝖼𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖺 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾’𝖽 𝗉𝗎𝗍 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝖻𝗒 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗈𝗇. 𝖥𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝗐 𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗄𝗌, 𝗁𝖾’𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗏𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗂𝖼, 𝖻𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝖻 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗋. 𝖠𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾’𝖽 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝖾𝗅𝗅, 𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗉𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖾𝗑𝖺𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗆 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗎𝗋𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾’𝖽 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇, 𝗎𝗇𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖿𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋’𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝖺𝗋.

𝖴𝗇𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗎𝗇𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒, 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇’𝗌 𝗉𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍. 𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾’𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝖼𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗑𝗂𝖾𝗍𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝗉𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂-𝗉𝗌𝗒𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗌 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖿𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖦𝗈𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇’𝗍, 𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝗌𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗈𝗋 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾, 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗀𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅, 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗇 𝖻𝗒 𝖦𝗈𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌.

𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗈𝖽, 𝗈𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖼𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗂𝗍, 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗈𝖽. 𝖡𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗏𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗈𝗋 𝖼𝗎𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗆 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝖻𝗅𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍.𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝖼𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗌 𝗄𝖾𝗉𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗈𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋. 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗋𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗇𝗄𝗂𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝗂𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗇.

𝖨𝖿 𝗁𝖾’𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖬𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗆 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗋𝗎𝖾𝗅 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾, 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖬𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗆 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉 𝖬𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇. 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖾𝗑𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗁𝖾’𝖽 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖬𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗆. 𝖧𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖬𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗆, 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖬𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗆 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗂𝗉𝗅𝖾, 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗁𝖾’𝖽 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖬𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗆’𝗌 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗍𝗈. 𝖳𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗁𝖾’𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝖺𝗇, 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅…. 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝖾𝗍, 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾.

“𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗐𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝖽𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗍𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆, 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆.” 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇’𝗌 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾, 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗁 𝗇𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗋𝗀𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋. 𝖧𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖿𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈 𝗋𝗎𝖽𝖾, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖾, 𝗁𝖾’𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗇𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝖽𝖾. “𝖦𝗈𝖽 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗎𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗐𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝖾 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝗈𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾.” 𝖲𝗈 𝗐𝗁𝗒 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝖬𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗆 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝖽𝗂𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒? 𝖶𝗁𝗒 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝖬𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗆’𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖬𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗆 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗆?

The tension and anger in the room was thick. The heightened emotions coming from both men were enough to make anyone feel awkward, scared, even. In this room were two men capable of horrible things, one was well versed in it, the other just beginning to realize his potential, nonetheless, those dark corners of his mind haunted him every day. Malcolm had always known his mind held dark spaces but after that night with John, what he had to do to get free and the chase that ensued in the house, his eyes were opened. His purpose realized. He understood now. 

He studied John’s face as he stood on the opposite side of the table, blue eyes sweeping over the rest of the man before him. He didn’t know what he really felt for John anymore, hatred, intrigue and on some deep subconscious level...lust? Was he drawn to him through all the chaos, bonded through the torture they both have experienced, culminating in that shared moment beneath his home? Malcolm didn’t understand it either, but the thought lingered in the back of his mind, now with John back in front of him, the thoughts grew more clouded. 

He let out a sigh when John gave his answer, clenching his fist, yet again, when the answer didn’t suit him. The profiler let out a light chuckle and sat up some, “𝐈’𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞. 𝐆𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧’𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲...𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞. 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐚𝐫𝐞.” Malcolm had never been super religious but knowing religion was what drove John in his mission, helped to understand him a little better. Maybe if he framed his approach in that light, he might be more inclined to help him discover what he was seeking. He hesitated a moment before he broke the silence again, “𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩, 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧. 𝐈’𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲. 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮...𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲, 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞.”

Malcolm focused on the other, hoping he would accept the challenge of helping him figure out what exactly to do with the new darkness brewing inside him. In a sense, Malcolm sought to learn from John. Yes, he could have asked his father, but his and Martin’s relationship was broken and manipulative. John had explained to Malcolm that he had a purpose in this, he was built for this, he could offer guidance and understanding. If only he was open to was the profiler had to say. 

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ofsaviours​:

𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗈𝗋. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝗈 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋/ 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗍𝗁 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗅𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗅 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗆𝗌, 𝗌𝗁𝖾’𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈’𝖽 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍. 𝖯𝖾𝗋𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗌 𝖦𝗈𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗒𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗁𝗈’𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌.

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝗐 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗁𝗌 𝗁𝖾’𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖼𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗅, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗇𝖿𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝗅𝗈𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾’𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗀𝗎𝗂𝗅𝗍𝗒 𝗒𝖾𝗍. 𝖤𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝖿 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗀𝗎𝗂𝗅𝗍𝗒, 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽 𝖦𝗈𝖽’𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝖽𝗀𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗍 𝗃𝗎𝖽𝗀𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗇𝗈 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅, 𝗈𝖿 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾’𝖽 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗌𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗍, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾𝖽. 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗎𝗅𝗍, 𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒’𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗇𝗈 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍.

𝖶𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗎𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗉𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗑, 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗀𝖾, 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗌; 𝗎𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗅𝖺𝗐𝗒𝖾𝗋𝗌. 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝗅𝖺𝗐𝗒𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝖦𝗈𝖽’𝗌 𝗅𝖺𝗐𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝗌𝗈 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽? 𝖢𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾?

𝖴𝗇𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗎𝗇𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒, 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖾. 𝖠𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾, 𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗉𝗈𝗇 𝖬𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗆 𝖡𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍; 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾. 𝖨𝗍 𝗍𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗅 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁 𝖺𝗍 𝖬𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗆, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗆𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗎𝖿𝖿𝗌 𝖺𝖿𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗅𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖶𝗁𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾? 𝖳𝗈 𝗀𝗅𝗈𝖺𝗍? 𝖳𝗈 𝗉𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝖺𝗅𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽? 𝖮𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗐𝖾𝗋𝗌? “𝖶𝗁𝗂𝗍𝗅𝗒.” 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝖾’𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝖿𝗈𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗁𝗌, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒, 𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗎𝗉 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇. “𝖶𝗁𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖦𝗈𝖽 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇?”

Malcolm sat in the visitation suite, awaiting John’s arrival. He was having second thoughts and wondering if he should just leave but his gut told him to stay. Hearing the door open, he was shaken from his thoughts and looked up to see his former tormentor, looking quite different than their last encounter. John’s appearance was gaunt and tortured. His clean shaven face and head was a stark difference that the bearded man he remembered. The healing gash on his head hinted that John’s time behind bars was, perhaps, not treating him so kindly. 

He clenched his fist again, subconsciously, when he heard John’s voice, swallowing hard as to keep his all too unstable emotions and underlying feelings in check. “You know, I had that same question. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it at first, all the questions I had after our...encounter. The...the feelings.” He looked up at John for a moment, studying his face briefly. “You left me with more questions than answers, John. And you know me, I like to get answers. I have a thing for needing answers.” He shifted in the seat, placing his hands on the table. 

Since that night, Malcolm had changed as well. The inner workings of his mind had always been skewed, but normally skewed in a way that was productive, that processed for the better. But since grappling with John Watkins face to face, something had awakened in Malcolm, something dark, sinister. Something he now realized, looking back, had always been there, just lying dormant beneath the surface. Now...he wasn’t sure what to do with it but he knew he had two people to ask. One of whom was now sitting across from him. 

He understood the inner workings of the minds of others, but exploring his own and making sense of what was going on in his own head was another story. With the thoughts he had been having lately, impulse would soon be hard to control and he needed...advice of sorts from a mind that understood. He wasn’t sure John would actually indulge him, they weren’t necessarily on the best of terms. For a few reasons. Bright had done some crazy things before, this would be no exception. 

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detectivepowell​:

Lips pursed slightly at his sudden stressed voice, brown hues darting around slightly at the large crowd of New Yorkers making their way down the sidewalk nearby.  The last thing either one of them needed right now was an uncontrollable outburst or even an outsider listening in on parts of their conversation and possibly interfering with their investigation. 

Hurriedly the detective pulled him aside, looking back at the building before turning back to her friend.  “You’re right.  You know him better than anyone and even I can see that he knows a hell of a lot more than what he’s telling us.  And maybe you’re right about him knowing who did all of this too, but Bright how are we going to get anything out of him if all he’s going to do is play games with you?”

A slow breath leaves her lips before continuing.  “Right now…right now is just a really messed up time- especially without Gil- and how long will it be before Martin hangs that in front of you too?  There are so many things he has tied to you, so many things that torment you.  Bright it’s not healthy and I’m worried that right now it’s just too much.  Look, it’s not my call.  It’s JT’s.  But I’m going to talk to him about this.  We need you completely focused on the case, we can’t afford another man down on our team.  He’s going to keep hurting you okay?  He’s going to keep baiting you to come back and I’m saying this as your friend, the job aside, you can’t let him keep torturing you.”

Though, frustrated at the outcome of their visit with his father, Malcolm listened to his friend’s words, understanding where she was coming from. She was right. His head wasn’t clear right now and it usually never was when it came to dealing with his father. He still had lingering effects days, sometimes even weeks after visiting him and Martin used that to his advantage. She was concerned and he appreciated that but he had to take a step back and be concerned about her too. 

Carrying on with Gil still in the hospital was hard for everyone and he knew Dani was still worried. He was too. Maybe that was why he was diving so deep into this case, it was a distraction. He let out a sigh and nodded, “Okay. You’re...you’re right. I’m sorry.” Malcolm stuffed his hands in his coat pockets and glanced back at the building that housed The Surgeon before looking back at his friend, the concern and cold written all over her face. 

“Fine. We’ll go another route”, the stubborn profiler agreed, though, he was thinking something else. He knew his father knew more than he was letting on and that information could lead them to this killer who was, by his predictions, going to kill again. Pretty soon. Malcolm needed answers and his father was going to give them. He could worry about the looming psychological torture later. Right now, lives were on the line and he wasn’t willing to risk that. 

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Gonna get to Malcolm’s drafts later after work and get some things in the queue! ☺️

[fionaroleplays]

Speaking with Xkit staff on Discord, they still have over 40+ extensions to fix due to this update so please be patient with them. They deserve a round of applause.

They do not want donations other than to Black Lives Matter BTW.

[hopesscoundrel]

So I stepped onto the dash today to find it in disarray 

because tumblr is trash for the new update, people are migrating, SO! If you still wanna plot/interact come talk to me on discord at 𝔾𝕝𝕖𝕟 ℂ𝕠𝕔𝕠💕#6009. Let’s make some magic!! 

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a plotted thing for @ofsaviours​ !

Malcolm didn’t know what drew him to go on this quest for more answers but he needed them. The questions were keeping him awake at night, though it’s not like he was used to getting much sleep to begin with anyway. He passed through metal detectors and and followed procedure as he made his way to the visitation area. Malcolm sat down and exhaled a breath, noting his hand began to tremble some. The tremors were back. He stretched his hand a bit and clenched it into a fist in an effort to stop the tremors, looking over the extremity, it wasn’t long ago that he had deliberately broken that hand to get to the very man he was coming to visit. 

He needed answers that only John Watkins could provide. His father was no help with this, he needed other insights and today he was hoping he’d get them. 

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detectivepowell​:

“C’mon,” Dani whispered gently, her hand laying cautiously on his arm to nudge him to begin moving.   He’d be alright…this time anyways.  He would, she wouldn’t allow it to be any other way.  

Quickly the detective gave one last glance to the monster behind the cell door, nothing but pure disgust and distaste for the man conformed on her features before finally they made their exit.  

The cold air made the woman inhale sharply, unable to hide her own relief that they were now out of that cell.  “You good?”  Dani asked as they made their way down the stairs of Claremont.  “Look Bright, maybe this isn’t a good idea.  Maybe this case should be one you just sit out?  Who knows maybe JT and I can take over?  Maybe we can keep pushing and something useful will actually come out.  Whatever it may be I just don’t think it’s healthy for you to be here right now- Hey!”  

Gently her hand caught his arm, forcing him to stop as they hit the sidewalk below.  “Are you okay?  Do you want to talk about it?”

Malcolm was trying to piece together fragments of what his father had told them with what they already knew about the case. Mind cycling a mile a minute as they headed down the steps of Claremont and out into the cold. He was lost in his own head before the brisk New York air hit them and he heard Dani’s voice again, snapping him back to reality. 

He looked at her when she stopped him in his tracks, huffing out a sigh. “I told you, I’m fine. I’ll be fine.” He gave her a smile but he knew she probably knew him better than that now to be able to see through his expression. “No, I--sit it out?”, he asked almost in disbelief. “Dani, we’re onto something and he’s not telling us everything”, he said pointing at the building, “He knows who this killer is.” 

Malcolm was famous for being stubborn about these things and once he set his mind on a case, there was really no stopping him. His hyper-focus on this one though, might be a recipe for self destruction. 

[dailyprodigalson]

I’m not my father. We know that.

[wonder-boy]

AHHH FOX NO YOU DIDN’T!!

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𝐆𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐚'𝐬 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐑𝐨𝐥𝐥

@midnightxhuntress - Harley Bishop | Active | an OC for the CW’s Supernatural

@hopesscoundrel - Han Solo | Active | Canon | Star Wars franchise

Find me on one of these some days if I’m not here on Malcolm! 

[hopescorned-a]

      Luke moved along the wall, finally locating a small gate nearby. She pointed the pistol at it and fired. Solo gazed at her in disbelief. “What do you think you’re doing?” “It looks like it’s up to me to save our skins. Get in that garbage chute, flyboy!” While the others looked on in amazement, she jumped feet first into the opening and disappeared. Chewbacca rumbled threateningly, but Solo slowly shook his head. “No, Chewie, I don’t want you to rip her apart. I’m not sure about her yet. Either I’m beginning to like her, or I’m going to kill her myself.”                                 –––––––– INDEPENDENT. HIGHLY SELECTIVE. PRIVATE. CANON DIVERGENT. LEIA ORGANA & HAN SOLO LIBERATED BY ALYSSA PILOTED BY GLENNA ESTABLISHED JUNE 2020

[bright-terrors]

for @detectivepowell continued from here

Malcolm exhaled a shaky breath as the heavy steel door to his father’s cell was shut behind them. He closed his eyes briefly to regain his composure as he heard his friend’s voice. Dani was standing right next to him but the thoughts currently clouding his mind made her sound muffled and farther away. Blue eyes opened and looked over to her as he nodded. “Yeah...air might be a good idea.”

He glanced back at the door as they made their exit, Dr. Whitly fading into the distance. Visiting his father was never an easy feat and today was no exception, though he wasn’t expecting to be hit this hard. The man’s words brought back memories he would much rather keep buried that now he was trying hard to block out. To focus.