tinstar | Malcolm x Raylan: Cowboy Surprise

Malcolm x Raylan: Cowboy Surprise

Art was suspicious right off the bat when Raylan took a week off with the express note that his phone would be Out Of Order til the next Monday, but the Chief Marshal wasn't going to look gift horses in the mouth. Not when it suggested he'd have a few days of peace, until Raylan caved to turning his phone back on again. Still, he watched the younger Marshal walk out of the office and promised himself to check into the state of Harlan within 3 days to make sure that the place wasn't on fire. The smoke would reach him before he called, he was sure.

But Art didn't have much to worry about - Raylan had no plans on staying in the state for his vacation, beyond one day spent closing up Arlo's and securing it the best way he could before getting on a plane to New York City. He wanted to surprise Malcolm - it'd been near two months since they'd last seen each other and frankly, Raylan was tired of missing him. They'd called and texted, stayed in a fairly consistent, if odd houred, touch but it wasn't the same.

Once he landed, Raylan rented a car and navigated his way towards Malcolm's apartment, stopping to grab a bouquet of flowers. It was.. Extra, but Raylan didn't want to show up empty handed, just in case. Thirty minutes later, Malcolm's door buzzer was being hit, like Raylan was here to deliver something. Well, he was, but that was half the fun.

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"I always take his cases," Malcolm said, recalling what he and Raylan had talked about earlier in the day. "I don't think he would have called me for that one if he knew it was going to be so straight forward. He tries to give me space between cases. He thinks I get too obsessed."

"Well, of course you do," Jessica pointed out.

He shrugged and took a drink of water.

Raylan smirked a little smirk of victory, taking another bite.

"Assholes never rest," he quipped. "'Course, I turn my phone off when I'm on personal time and Art is happier that way, if he had a say in it." They were both weights on their boss - Malcolm was attracted to trouble and Raylan was trouble.

Malcolm laughed. "Art treasures you. Don't let him tell you differently."

Ainsley swirled her wine in her glass. "Who's Art? Your boss?"

"Art Mullen," Raylan supplied with an amused curl of his features at Malcolm before looking over at Ainsley. "Chief Deputy of the Lexington office. We taught Firearms at Glynco; the Marshal's training center. I was brought in for the locals. They don't trust outsiders, even of 20 plus years."

He looked over at Malcolm. "You wouldn't know it by listening. One day I should get him in a room alone with you; I'm sure he's got some deeply unflattering stories for you."

"I hope so," Malcolm told him. "I can tell him that his consternation would be more believable if he didn't have so much fond exasperation on his face."

"So, like, the way Gil looks at you," Ainsley surmised.

Malcolm looked like he was going to protest, then conceded with a shrug "Pretty much."

"He has accused me of being an emotionally crippled child that he's been saddled with," Raylan granted. "Though I think 'consternation' would make him laugh. Much like it might make Gil."

It was, unarguably, something the two men have in common.

"But Gil knew you quite a bit younger than he knew me."

"Um, yes. Gil met me when I actually was an emotionally crippled child," he pointed out.

"And thank god for the fact that he's still looking out for you," Jessica concluded. "At least you had one decent rolemodel in your life. Are you going to attempt dessert?" she asked.

Malcolm looked over at her and shook his head, pulling his glass of water a little closer.

"Have you made any progress on the Crowder case?" Malcolm asked Raylan.

Raylan's eyes danced between Malcolm and his mother, not missing the affection in her quips or her questions.

He glanced and Malcolm before shaking his head. "Our CI isn't cooperating and I've yet to lure Boyd into making a stupid mistake. But now we've got old money down in the hollars lookin' to control the oxy and weed business down there. We'll see how it comes out. Maybe they'll provide the opportunity I'm lookin' for."

He glanced at Jessica and Ainsley. "None of which I'm sure is appropriate here but.." It was better than their previous subject.

Jessica waved it off with a certain amount of resignation. Malcolm was largely not looking haunted anymore. It was a tradeoff she herself had started by asking him about his last case.

Malcolm still felt on the edge of anxiety and he shifted in his seat, then got up. "I'm just going to go wash my face," he told them and disappeared out the door.

Ainsley turned her attention back to Raylan with Malcolm's departure. "Oxy and weed, huh?"

Raylan opted to take another drink as Malcolm slipped away, glancing at him briefly before turning his attention back to Ainsley and her curiosity.

He ducked his head with a half chuckle and a smile. "Easier shitkicker on shitkicker crime. They keep the task force busy trying to up it to heroin but they're never quite that successful. It's honestly amazing that some of these people are even in the business, stupid as they are. That's the states area though, not the Marshal's service, and a blight on it at that."

It was a sad state of poverty, but Raylan's easy going way and his tone being one of an amusing story, it eased that quite a bit.

"Sounds like there are a lot of interesting stories to tell down there," Ainsley remarked.

"Oh, not this again," Jessica said. "You're angling for a promotion off the wandering beat."

Ainsley shrugged. "But I got into this to tell interesting stories." She looked at Raylan. "I actually would like to see your badge," she confessed. "But not because I don't believe you. I just want to see it."

"A few," Raylan granted. "People tend to focus more on the blood feuds that are still running, but mostly, it's just sad. You can find that anywhere."

Giving a facial shrug of a lift of his eyebrows, mouth corners turning down briefly as he pulled his leather wallet style badge out from his inner jacket pocket. He flipped it open and handed it over to her.

While she looked at it, Raylan looked over at Jessica. "You're wrong about train hobos, but you're not generally wrong about the area. With the amount of guns and lack of education down there, sometimes people make less than.. wise choices." It wasn't hard to see the parts of why Raylan wasn't promoting anyone being in the state, himself included.

"I suppose you'd know more about it than I do," Jessica acknowledged, setting her knife and fork across her plate.

"It looks like a sheriff's badge in a Western," Ainsley interjected as she looked at the badge. She looked at Raylan. "Matches the hat."

He did, thank you very much. Looking back over to Ainsley, he pulled a smile. "And the boots, apparently. I suppose it still looks that way because we work all over the country. Kinda a universal symbol at this point. You should see the one I wear on my belt."

If Ainsley dug, she'd find the tellings of what the cowboy or 'the guy in the hat' had done. Raylan leaned into it now - let the sight of his hat strike a little fear into a bad guy's heart.

"Some cases, it sorta is like a western. I loved 'em as a kid, but so did a lot of other people. There's always someone who wants to draw down like we're at the OK Corral."

"Like the guy in the restaurant?" she confirmed, handing the badge back across the table. She bit her lip. "Can I try on the hat?"

"Ainsley," her mother chided.

Ainsley waved her off, keeping her eager gaze on Raylan.

Raylan bobbed his head a little, expression going a little devilish in it's squint as he collected his badge and tucked it away again. "Something like that."

Her follow up question had him openly chuckling with an inviting gesture towards the chair that he'd discarded it on. "Go ahead."

It was fine. "She's not the first to ask, and I'd bet she won't be the last."

Ainsley jumped up with a grin and walked around the table to pick up the hat, setting it on her head and then posing jokingly. "What do you think?"

"You look like you're going linedancing," Jessica said with only a small amount of distaste.

Malcolm walked back into the room just then, stopping as he looked up and spotted Ainsley in Raylan's hat. He gestured between his mother and sister and said, teasing, to Raylan "Are these people bothering you, sir?"

"Looks like a ten gallon hat on a five gallon head," Raylan answered with a grin behind the edge of his scotch glass. The grin carried as he looked over at Malcolm, eyebrows lifting a fraction.

"Nothing I can't handle. Though line dancing might put me over the line."

He did not partake of dancing, generally speaking which put line dancing right out.

"You got back just in time for the fashion show."

"I think you're going to have to get a pink one if you like the look," he told Ainsley, slipping past her to get back to his chair. "With rhinestones."

She made a face. "Neutral colours are very this year, Malcolm." She dug her phone out and took a selfie so she could look at it, then looked at Raylan. "It is a little big for me," she conceded, taking it off and setting it back on the chair before heading back around the table. Not that it would stop her from putting it on her Instagram. "So you don't dance? Because Malcolm almost danced professionally," she said innocently.

"Not even close to professionally," he protested, trading his water for his scotch.

"Still cute though." He smiled again behind another drink - there was some funny kind of joy at watching Ainsley and Malcolm pick at each other.

"The ballet; I've heard about that. About the best I can offer in return in some standard middle school like slow dancing. Never got into kicking heels, though I know a few guys who did. Still doesn't make it look good."

Why yes, Raylan did have some kinda vain pride about himself.

"What about you? Did your mother add dance on top of afterschool dictation?"

"I chose showjumping," Ainsley told him. "On horses. I wasn't into dance like Malcolm was." She giggled. "And it was diction, not dictation!"

Malcolm studied his scotch glass very intently.

"Yes, well, neither of you kept it up," Jessica pointed out. "Except for the diction; that was money well spent."

The housekeeper returned to remove their dinner dishes.

"Just three desserts," Jessica told her. She didn't specify who wasn't having any; she didn't have to.

"Did you do sports at school?" Ainsley asked Raylan. "You look... sporty."

Raylan's smile broke into a grin at her giggle and correction before looking over at Malcolm with a curious little lift of his brows. "Chose, huh? And here I thought it was you-" He looked over at Jessica, face still curled in amusement. "-trying to keep him outta sports."

Ainsley's question fit right in and Raylan nodded. "Baseball, since I was young, all the way through to highschool. Batter, mostly."

"Sports?" Jessica exclaimed in amusement. She scoffed a laugh. "Really?"

"Thank you," Malcolm said dryly.

"Well, honestly."

"I throw axes," he insisted. "I'm a champion competitive axe thrower."

"That's not a sport, dear. It's more of a macabre hobby. Like your job."

"Tea or coffee?" Louise stopped next to him to ask. "Tea," he said, his expression tight, unconsciously fidgeting with his fingers on top of the table.

She poured him a cup, then turned to Raylan. "Would sir like tea or coffee?"

"They don't give metals for hobbies," Raylan pointed out good naturedly, glancing at Louisa with a soft shake of his head as he turned the empty up over onto the table.

"And he's got me doing it now too. As a former little league batter.. throwing axes is harder than it looks. Lot of back and shoulder muscles in use." He lifted his eyebrows.

"What would you have seen either of them in," he asked Jessica, genuinely curious.

"Well, dressage was perfect for Ainsley, I just wish she'd stuck with it longer." The dynamic of the Whitly siblings; Malcolm had to deal with Ainsley being 'perfect' in their mother's eyes and Ainsley had to deal with Malcolm getting all the attention for being damaged. "But god knows I tried to get Malcolm interested in tennis or soccer or even golf. But no. Ballet. And then axe-throwing." She looked at Malcolm. "You never lost your need to be difficult about literally everything," she sighed.

"I wonder where I get that from," he retorted dryly, taking a sip of tea.

She narrowed her eyes at him slightly, but there was something playful in it.

The housekeeper brought out the dessert, which was a chocolate mousse torte garnished with raspberries, setting them in front of Jessica, Ainsley and Raylan.

"Do you want any fruit?" she asked Malcolm quietly. He looked up at her and shook his head faintly. She nodded and slipped out of the room again.

"Anyway, I don't think their schools had baseball teams. That wasn't the sort of thing the parents would have gone for."

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