𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹 | prodigal son

𝗲𝗽. 𝗳𝗼𝘂𝗿 ▸ all of it

'Unless you tell me where you got this intel, I can't send you guys in there,' Gil sighed down the phone.

'Carter Berkhead is one of The Surgeon's patients. He fits the profile, Gil, he had a heart attack in the middle of a sex dungeon, for crying out loud.'

'The Surgeon?' he spat. 'Did you go to see him?'

'No, I just requested his files. I figured they'd probably give them to me, of all people, you know? It's not something I can just ask Malcolm to do.' Lying was so much easier over the phone.

Gil chuckled, 'It's good to have you back, kid.'

'Why employ one Whitly kid when you can get the whole package?' Madeline peered down the avenue lit by evening life—streetlamps, glowing windows, the doors of the Berkhead association building, outside of which loitered Bright and Detective Powell. 'I can see them. Thanks again for this, Gil.'

'No problem, Mads. How about you call your big, strong boyfriend next time you're scared walking through town by yourself?' 

She hummed, 'I like you.'

'Yeah, yeah. Get in there.'

Maddy stuffed her phone into her handbag upon approach. 'You look gorgeous,' she said to Dani instantly. The Berkheads were wealthy—each guest was part of a golden New York family. Including the Whitly kids. Malcolm didn't quite have a problem fitting in, with him constantly wearing a formal suit and tie, so the Maddy made an extra effort. 'I didn't expect you to...'

'Wasn't gonna let you show me up,' she teased, flattening down her sage silk top. 'You look great, by the way.'

Maddy flashed her a painfully false smile and headed inside.

'Her knees...' Dani trailed off watching her walk away. 'What's wrong with her knees?'

'I know. They look like mutated swan feet,' Malcolm agreed.

'Bright!'

'It's the ballet,' he dismissed hastily, leading her inside. 'What is this?'

'Some charity event that the Berkheads hold for their club,' Dani answered as they caught up to Madeline, the three of them stood in yet another doorway overlooking a wide room filled with expensive cloths and extortionate hors d'oeuvres. Each guest was doused in gold jewelry, each limb adorned with fineries. 

'Charity, huh?' Maddy sighed. 'They sure look like make-a-wish kids to me.'

Dani sniggered, before composing herself and suggesting, 'I think we should split up. There's a lot of faces in here.'

Malcolm agreed, noting that is was probably better she accompany his sister so that should she be recognised, she would be able to lie about having any friends. This left Maddy in unusual company as the woman joined at her side among her mingling, acting as if they had known one another for a decade. It left her warm inside as Dani touched her shoulder tentatively, occasionally guiding her to another table to gather information.

'Sixteen bald—headed men in sight but not one of them is Mister Berkhead.'

'I feared this might happen,' Maddy recounted, 'the moment I found out we were headed to an economic mirror-wank. Finding one bald man in a suit would be impossible.' She gazed around the party once more and instantly snapped back, horrified. 'We're in trouble,' she said under her breath.

Dani reached for her firearm. 'What do you mean?'

'No, not like that. Although you might want to give that to me so I can shoot myself in the head in about twenty seconds.'