A moment later, George returned with a glass of whiskey. "Here."
Locke raised an eyebrow. He stood up to take the glass, looking at George curiously. "Is this some kind of 'entrapment' sting operation?"
"Technically, yes. But are you going to refuse it?"
"No."
George fell silent for a moment at the blunt, sincere answer. He sat down and adjusted his tie. "The original intent of the law was to reduce drunk driving accidents. Besides, you're probably more familiar with this place than your own apartment by now."
At the very least, George didn't know the password to Locke's safe, whereas Locke knew his.
Shit. This wild boar's apartment probably still has a brand-new, untouched kitchen.
"Don't drink too much."
"I won't," Locke smiled, raising his glass to clink with George's. He glanced at the bottle on the table—it was still two-thirds full.
'Perfect. You're finished,' Locke thought.
George took a sip. "Are Nina Bell's parents named Manolo and Jones?"
Locke nodded. "Yes. You really know them?"
George let out a dry chuckle and sipped his drink. "The Bells. Old acquaintances. Do you know how the Bell family, who were refugees back then, managed to settle down in New York?"
"There's a story?"
"Yeah," George nodded, looking at Locke.
"We paid for it!"
Locke: "..."
Strictly speaking, it was the NYPD who paid. Back when George first became an officer.
But then... the movement began to rise quietly. It started when a politician in D.C. discovered she could secure her power by pandering for certain votes.
To put it simply: the Bells, who were illegal refugees at the time, joined a march to demand civil rights. During the resulting riot, Nina Bell's older brother died accidentally.
Originally, as illegal refugees without status, their death shouldn't have mattered. New York lost legal citizens every day; one more wouldn't have been missed.
But George shook his head. "A D.C. politician found a way to flip their status overnight. Add to that a Democrat judge who was 'feeling merciful,' and the environment at the time wasn't great. The NYPD was forced into an out-of-court settlement. They gave the Bells a fortune."
Locke raised an eyebrow. "And they're still around?"
George shook his head. "It's not that simple."
The NYPD certainly hadn't wanted them around. They had tried to cause trouble for the Bells from every angle. But the results were negligible. Whatever trouble they found, the Bells would counter with a discrimination lawsuit. Illegal parking? Discrimination. No turn signal? Discrimination.
In short... George looked at Locke. "The Bell family is a Victim card family. You understand what I'm saying?"
Locke nodded.
George was warning him indirectly to watch out for Nina Bell playing the "discrimination card." From a certain perspective, the Bell family were seen as "pioneers and civil rights fighters" in the eyes of the local community.
Furthermore, Locke lived in the Star Tower—the ultimate thorn in their side.
Locke smiled. "George, do you know why you lost?"
"Hmm?"
"Because you're the NYPD. I'm not."
Locke acknowledged the warning but looked at George with a calm smile. "I have a legal team. If anyone slanders my reputation, my lawyers will seek justice for me."
Nina Bell better not play the discrimination card. Otherwise... Locke had 199 ways to make the Bell family disappear. A D.C. politician backing them?
Heh. Locke had money. If he wanted, he could buy five Congressmen to speak for him.
George saw the smile on Locke's face and didn't say more. He had said what needed to be said. He finished his drink. "Our guest room is practically your bedroom now."
George stood up, his brow twitching as he looked at the now-empty bottle of whiskey on the table.
Locke smiled beside him. "Thanks. It was delicious. Got any more?"
George: "..."
...
The next morning.
After eating breakfast and helping Helen drop off eleven-year-old George Jr. and six-year-old Mark at school, Locke and Gwen turned toward Midtown High.
"At noon, we need to go to the printers to check the posters," Gwen said.
"Okay."
"And the campaign badges. We should swing by after school to look at those."
"Mhm."
"By the way, have you finished your speech?"
"..."
Gwen, sitting in the passenger seat, was in full "Campaign Manager" mode, verifying the details for the start of the race. Noticing Locke hadn't responded, she looked up.
Seeing Locke watching her with a curious expression, she blinked. "What is it?"
Locke shook his head. "Nothing. You just seem... different."
"How?"
"Yesterday you were telling me to be on high alert. Today, you seem remarkably relaxed."
"Because I have confidence in you."
"..."
'You weren't like this last night,' Locke thought.
Gwen gave a brilliant smile. "I'm your girlfriend. My job is to believe in you. Isn't that what you said on stage yesterday?"
"...Fair enough."
Locke felt that wasn't the "correct" answer, but regardless, the result was good.
He parked and turned off the engine. Gwen hopped out, pulling on her backpack. "You didn't answer about the speech. Do you need me to look over it?"
"No need," Locke looked at her. "Because I haven't written it yet."
He really hadn't. He didn't know what to write. Besides, Midtown students didn't want to hear fluff. He'd just go up and say he wouldn't ignore the "jocks" just because he was an "academic," and that he'd treat everyone equally.
Gwen froze, about to be speechless, but then she smiled. "Fine. If you haven't written it, you haven't written it. I believe in you."
Locke was shocked! 'You aren't my Gwen. My Gwen isn't like this.'
Confidence doesn't come from nowhere. Locke's confidence came from his status as a "Player" and his cheats. Whether facing Hydra or SHIELD, or when the Poseidon was sinking, he never felt a shred of panic.
Gwen's confidence, however, usually came from meticulously planned organization and ensuring every preparation was perfect. Not having a speech written was a blatant violation of Gwen's rules of confidence.
So... what happened?
Locke entered his "Memory Palace," replaying the events of last night after returning to the apartment. He looked at Gwen suspiciously. "Did Helen say something to you?"
Gwen shook her head. "No. I just figured it out myself."
"What?"
"So far, Locke, your confidence hasn't been proven to be 'blind.'"
Gwen hugged her backpack and tossed her ponytail, looking at him with absolute trust. "So, until your 'mysterious confidence' experiences a failure, I will believe in you. Besides, it's just a school election. If you lose, you lose. We can always try again next year."
Locke was stunned. Then he laughed.
"Nah, I'd win."
Gwen nodded. "I know. I have faith in you, future President Broughton."
Locke: "..."
'That feels like a massive flag just got planted.'
The Knowledge Competition that just ended was also full of flags. In fact, if Locke hadn't been a "cheater," the winners would likely have been the "Avengers" from Brooklyn High.
And this time? Locke felt like he might have to "cheat" again.