What the hell did she mean by "not an outsider"?
Gwen's face flushed a delicate shade of crimson. "Locke and I are just friends!"
Locke continued to sip his drink, face devoid of emotion. At a time like this, no matter what he said, it would be wrong.
If you don't speak, you won't slip up; if you don't slip up, you won't make a mistake.
This had always been Locke's philosophy for navigating life.
He disliked wasting breath. If a problem could be solved with action, he invariably refused to resolve it through dialogue.
Simply put: if apologies were useful, what would we need the police for?
Hmm?
Locke tilted his head, looking at the drink in his hand.
The taste was quite good. It was fresh-pressed by Helen, sweet and refreshing.
Gwen's two younger brothers were sitting in their spots, laughing like prepubescent ducklings. It seemed that if they weren't laughing, they would have no presence at all.
Helen didn't tease them further. She gave a small smile and took her seat, looking toward George. "How is the case going?"
She was a little worried.
Half of New York had been in an uproar yesterday, and today, the front pages of every newspaper were undeniably centered on the events of last night.
New York's Top Trending Incident: NO. 1.
The NYPD was under immense pressure.
Especially now, during the mayoral election season. If the current mayor wanted a successful re-election, his only path forward was likely to close the case as quickly as possible.
If the case remained open, it was game over for him. Even if it were closed, there might only be a slim chance of political survival.
Under these circumstances, the Mayor squeezed the NYPD, and the NYPD headquarters squeezed every layer of management, finally letting the pressure fall squarely on the lead investigator.
George Stacy!
After all, for this specific case, George Stacy had been appointed head of the task force.
This way, even if the case eventually went nowhere, the NYPD could throw George Stacy under the bus to take the hit and appease public opinion for the sake of the angry, outgoing mayor.
It was unavoidable.
A politician's hands might not be dirty, but their hearts certainly were. The kind of filth that no amount of spin could ever wash clean.
George looked at the worried Helen. He squeezed her hand and reassured her, "Don't worry. I will bring that Sin Hunter to justice."
Locke, sitting opposite them: "..."
'Good luck with that.'
Locke mused inwardly. He didn't mind Captain Stacy's desire to catch him.
Because from a certain perspective, "Peerless" didn't actually exist. He only manifested when Locke donned the sunglasses provided by the system.
Gwen chimed in from the side, "Dad, I believe you can do it. Right, Locke?"
"Of course!"
Locke snapped back to the moment, smiled, and raised his glass toward George. "Mr. Stacy, I believe in you too. You'll definitely be able to close the case."
Capturing a suspect and closing a case were two different probabilities. You didn't necessarily have to bring the suspect in for the file to be closed.
George and Helen exchanged a look.
Then, Locke and Gwen raised their juice while George and Helen raised their whiskey and wine. The four glasses clinked together over the center of the table.
They settled back into their seats.
Helen set down her wine glass and took George's hand again. As if remembering something, she smiled. "Dear, you have no idea how nervous Gwen and I were when we saw you confronting that Sin Hunter."
The moment George entered the scene right after Locke executed Fox was captured live by New York TV—right before Locke shot out the news helicopter's windshield.
Had the footage not cut out when the helicopter fled, George might have been able to decline the position of task force leader.
But as it stood, George was the only person who had faced the Sin Hunter and lived to tell the tale.
Gwen added, "Yeah, Dad. The main force hadn't even arrived yet. Why did you rush in like that?"
George shrugged.
He was a cop; the other was a criminal. Since ancient times, criminals have hidden from the police; whoever heard of a cop being afraid of a criminal?
Though Helen and Gwen were still shaken, they felt a sense of relief.
Relief...
Helen stroked George's palm and smiled. "I'm just glad it was the Sin Hunter you were facing."
George looked at his wife. "What do you mean by that?"
"I'm not saying the Sin Hunter is innocent," Helen clarified. "I'm just saying that while he's a criminal, he has his own principles. At the very least, he doesn't kill innocent people. So, I'm grateful for that."
"..."
George frowned. "A criminal is a criminal. No criminal has principles. Even if he does, those principles aren't an excuse for murder, and they certainly aren't a reason to turn half of New York into a race track."
Saying this, George looked at Locke, who was sitting across from him sipping his drink, and tried to recruit an ally. "Locke, don't you think I'm right?"
'None of my business.'
Locke set down his glass and immediately felt three sets of eyes lock onto him.
Good grief.
He'd planned to keep a low profile, but how did it end up like this? Was it because he was so dazzling that he couldn't hide his light even if he tried?
Locke felt a bit speechless.
"Well... that..."
"It's okay, Locke. You can speak freely."
"Yeah, Locke. Even though my mom and I think the same way, we are very democratic. Right, Dad?"
"...Yes. Very democratic!"
'I don't believe you for a second.'
Locke looked at Helen, who was resting her chin on her hands with a "mother-in-law evaluating her future son-in-law" expression.
Then he looked at Gwen, who had a "please help me out" look on her face.
And finally, at George, who was staring at him with a stern "I know you're the same type of person I am" expression.
I'll be damned...
Locke opened his mouth, considered his words, and said carefully, "If it had been any other assassin, Mr. Stacy, the chances of you coming away without a scratch would have been much lower."
George could decide whether Locke was allowed to come over in the future.
But Helen could decide not only if he could visit, but if he could stay for dinner.
The choice was obvious. It was an open-ended question.
Moreover...
Locke was planning ahead. He didn't want to leave a weakness that could be used against him later.
'The generals are ready to fight to the death, so why does Your Majesty surrender?'
Three to one. The two brothers under ten didn't have voting rights.
Hearing Locke's words, Helen nodded and seized the momentum. "That's exactly what I mean! Do you know how dangerous it was? Do you know how worried Gwen and I were? What would we have done if something happened to you?"
George gave a sheepish smile, but his peripheral vision remained fixed on Locke.
Rapport: -1
Suspicion: +99
'I've got my eye on you.'
'You wild boar, trying to steal my precious cabbage.'
***
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