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Money, they say, can buy everything, and the Lynxleys, at least the living ones, hadn't actually committed any crimes that anyone was willing to admit to witnessing. That was why by the time the cameras were off and the publicity died down, they were all out of jail and Milton was already receiving quiet, formal apologies for being treated as a criminal. The meddling bunny and her sidekick fox might complain, but that was simply how business was done.
Of course all the apologies in the world wouldn't make up for the humiliation, the loss of business, the loss of reputation. And more than those two witless police officers, there was one person responsible for that humiliation.
Pawbert.
He stood nervously in front of Milton's desk, shifting from foot to foot, his hands clasped behind back.
"Sir."
Milton took a long breath. His idiot son probably thought he was going to thrash him within an inch of his life. Hell knew he had been tempted, now and in the past. It seemed no matter what tactic he chose, the boy never learned, always either cringing, hedging and second-guessing himself, or taking bold, stupid moves like the one that had led to the most recent fiasco.
Milton had tried to make a Lynxsley out of him. He hoped Pawbert's mother, rest her soul, knew how hard that he had tried. But confidence, grace, self-respect- anything that made a leader, Pawbert lacked them all. Pawbert had the soul of a cringing lackey, desperate to please.
And Milton was done trying in vain to change that.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "You disappointed me, Pawbert. You humiliated the family. Dragged our good name through the mud. Cost us untold sums in damages and lost business."
Pawbert winced at every crime, his tail twitching between his legs. "I'll understand, sir, you're going to disown me."
"Disown you?" Milton sneered, drumming his claws on the surface of the desk. "And let you loose to cause who knows what further damages to my good name? Absolutely not."
The boy's eyes widened. "N-no? Then…"
Milton licked his teeth. "Come here, boy, round the desk."
He watched his son timidly creep his way toward him, until he was standing by his chair. Milton turned his chair to him.
"You wanted your daddy's attention? You've got it. From now on, I am keeping you on a very. Short. Leash. Do you understand me?"
"I ah, I'm not… sure?" The look on Pawbert's face was as cringing as ever- he hadn't stopped looking like he was going to be hit at any moment.
Milton waved to the bottle of expensive whisky on his desk and the glass beside it. "Pour your daddy a drink, boy."
Pawbert scrambled to obey, his hands shaking as he picked up the bottle. Milton watched him carefully- thankfully the idiot didn't drop it.
"Ah, here you are, sir," he murmured, offering the full glass.
Milton raised his chin, and smirked. "Good boy."
The effect of the words was immediate. Pawbert's tail and ears raised and his eyes widened, a pleased, fawning look on his soft face. It was cute, really, how eager he was to please. Milton probably should have just given up on him before.
He swirled the drink in his glass and sipped it for a moment letting his son stand there in suspense.
Finally, he waved his claw.
"Come here, Pawbert. Sit on Daddy's lap."
That caught the boy up short, and he started stammering again. Milton couldn't even make the words of his protests out.
He cut in with a sharp tone.
"I said 'sit', boy."
Pawbert kept stammering, but he didn't hesitate a second time. The warm weight of his body as it eased into Milton's lap was comfortable, and he scooped his arm around him, resting it on his son's thigh.
Milton leaned over and purred in his ear. "I think you'll come to enjoy our new arrangement, my boy."
Pawbert's whimpered little, "Yes, daddy," told him that he knew exactly what his father had in mind.
Pawbert had always been a smart boy, after all, even if he'd never be a leader. And if Milton couldn't make a real Lynxsley out of him, he'd just have to use him for what he could. He wasn't good for nothing, after all.