Vivian Arroyo was never one to go against her father, but ever since Malcolm Bright was back into her everyday life, Gil took notice that she started to do what Malcolm did.
Almost exactly, apart from the whole not calling for help thing that Malcolm couldn’t seem to do. Vivian always knew when she was in over her head, she got that from her mother. And God, was Gil thankful for that.
But he knew something had to be up when she was bouncing her leg like a maniac under the desk she claimed in the main room of the NYPD precinct, clicking around with the mouse and occasionally typing.
They were between cases for the time being, the FBI still cleaning out the meeting room of information they had on the new serial killer.
“Viv,” Gil started softly once he perched himself on the clean outer edge of the desk, watching his daughter still bouncing her leg. “Are you okay?”
“Me? ‘M fine,” Vivian replied, her eyes still glued to the computer screen as her hands flew across the keyboard to type.
“No,” Gil started easily, reaching a hand out to place on Vivian’s when she reached the mouse just after he turned the monitor of her computer off. “I don’t think you are.”
“Gil, I am fine,” Vivian insisted firmly, looking up at her father through her long, curled eyelashes. Gil stood his ground, not at all scared that his little girl was trying to get him off her back.
“Vivian Arroyo, you are not.” Gil pushed off the edge and carefully laced his hand with hers, starting to kneel on the ground to be leveled somewhat so Vivian could stop craning her neck. “You can talk to me, you know that right?”
Vivian sighed almost aggressively and let it happen, running a freehand over her face in faux annoyance. He knew this act. She didn’t want anyone in the NYPD to think that Gil gave her special treatment, and soon she'd start to speak in a lower octave. Little did they know, everyone found their relationship—work and family—adorable.
“I know, Dad. It's just.." Vivian trailed off quietly, seeming to almost hesitate with her reasoning. Gil took that moment as her eyes wandered to tilt his head like he used to when she was younger to let her know she's safe.
"I'm worried about Malcolm," she finally spat out, looking down at their intertwined hands, gently twisting Gil's fingers with her own.
Gil quirked an eyebrow at that. He expected to get the answer at their Daddy-Daughter Dinner Date (or as Vivian jokingly calls it: Triple D, although there are four D's and they're not cooking any Guy Fieri recipes). Regardless, it was still a pleasant surprise he wasn't going to have to coerce it out of her with an old recipe of her mother's he's perfected a few nights ago.
Vivian's eyes finally locked on the agents still cleaning up their evidence.
Gil tried to resist the urge to be anymore fatherly in the moment, knowing he'd get scolded by her. “Malcolm’s fine, Vi. Sure, he’s pissed about the FBI taking our case, but he’s fine.”
“He’s still got bruises from being face to face with Paul that need to be iced,” Vivian shot back, barely tilting her head to glance at him as he held his kneeling position.
“But he’s still fine.”
Vivian snorted softly and started to thumb at the wedding band Gil still wore, her gaze turning back to her lap where their hands laid. “Sure, Dad.”
“How’s about this,” Gil started gently, “you take the rest of the day off and relax. You’ve been non-stop since you got back on the team and I think you’ve earned it.”
Vivian tried to keep her face neutral the best she could and let out a sigh, glancing down at her hopeful father’s face.
“I guess have been pushing it too hard, haven’t I?”
“You said it, not me kid.” Gil tried to hide the chuckle he felt bubbling in his throat, grunting quietly as he finally stood up, Vivian still holding onto his hands.
Gil and Vivian shared a laugh before she finally agreed with him, their hands finally separating.
"Thanks. I appreciate it, old man. We're still having dinner tonight, right?" Vivian asked, starting to log off on her computer before reaching for a few papers on the desk.
The face Gil pulled made Vivian laugh loudly once she stood from her chair, his arms spread out almost like he was asking for a hug.
"Obviously! I've been looking forward to it for the past two weeks!"
Vivian kept giggling as she quickly gave Gil a hug, letting out a groan at the kiss he planted on her head before saying her goodbyes to get the rest of her things from the lockers in the back of the precinct and head back to her apartment.
However, she wasn't heading back to her place.
After she came back from grabbing her crossbody bag and other small things she keeps forgetting to lug home, she rushed over to one of the printer trays and sifted through the papers once she made sure that her father wasn't out of his office.
The second her eyes found the FBI certified papers on the information they've been collecting since they've taken over the Paul Lazar case, she knew that she was really doing this.
It was a bit reckless for her tastes, but she had a hunch, and she couldn't ignore it.
Taking a breath, Vivian was quick to be sure she had all the papers she printed off before folding them and carefully shoving them into the open compartment of her bag.
At that point, she knew she was in the home stretch. Vivian told herself to keep her cool and gave a final wave to a few other colleagues in the NYPD.
She was on her own mission now.
And that mission was getting to Malcolm Bright’s apartment to relay information since he was off for the day.