Prodigal Son

Note: last-line-first-line challenge at Giles Shorts: “That must have been hard.”
Word Count: 177

“That must have been hard to hear, Ripper.” Ethan’s sympathy didn’t quite ring true. “The prodigal son may have returned to the fold, but he’s certainly not been forgiven. No fatted calf for you, my dear.”

Rupert had actually thought he might be accepted until Hawkins, who’d been second best boy until Rupert had skived off, had stared castigating him from across the pub. “Hadn’t you heard? Rupert went off the deep end. Apparently he was quite the degenerate. One can hardly imagine why Travers allowed him back in.” He’d finished in a mock-whisper that was meant to be heard. “Drugs. Satanic rituals.”

“Give it up, Ripper.” Ethan's words brought him back to the present. “This game of your Council’s, it’s not worth playing. Come away. If they can’t appreciate you, they don’t deserve you.”

The Council might have let him back in, but they’d never accept him. Ethan might accept him, but he'd never understand. Rupert may have returned to the fold, but he was more alone than ever. All he had left was his duty.