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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"Plus it'll lead into stadium beer," Malcolm pointed out. "I think they actually have a whole list of craft beers that they keep on tap here."

"Been a long time since I haven't had something out of a bottle. Just keep away the IPA's. They're not beer, they're a pisswater experiment."

Raylan lifted his chin and eyebrows as he spotted a food laden waiter coming their way, adjusting his jacket a little as he shifted in his chair. It... wasn't theirs. Raylan slumped a little in his seat with a soft breath.

"How's the coffee?"

"It's decent."

Malcolm held a hand up and their waiter suddenly appeared.

"What do you have on tap?" he asked.

Raylan blinked at the sudden appearance and lifted his face and eyebrows a little as he listened to the waiter dutifully recite their current labels. Was that some Rich Person Superpower?

None of the names rung a bell.

"A pint of your most popular, light toned, non-IPA beer, please." He'd trust him. Anything was better than Sweetened Unsweetened tea.

The waiter nodded and quickly returned with a beer in a tall glass with a slice of an orange on the rim, setting it down in front of Raylan.

"That'll be a white ale," Malcolm told him when the waiter left.

"White ale," Raylan echoed, pulling up up for a drink after pulling out and discarding the orange slice. "It's not bad."

He gestured vaguely towards the restaurant. "Is that how it always is? You lift your hand and people just appear?"

Malcolm shrugged a shoulder. "Yeah." He reached over and picked up the discarded orange slice, taking a bite of it. "These waiters go to special training, they're not... students or something. They're career waitstaff."

"They have a waitstaff school?" His face displayed just how foreign that idea was but he waved it off with a shake of his head. "'Course they do. Is that the same as butler school? Or is that a different course."

Malcolm smirked a little bit and poked his orange peel towards Raylan.

"I think you might be making fun of me," he noted good-naturedly.

Raylan's face curled impishly as he bobbed his head and squinted a little concession as he hid behind another draw of his drink. Okay yes, he was, but not with malice. He shifted again as their waiter came and this time, it was their food, which he took happily, getting his silverware up in hand as the waiter was setting down Malcolm's plate.

"Good, my stomach was starting to eat itself. They plate it nice," he praised as he cut one of the tuna steak slices in half. "Though I'm sure I'm gonna shudder at how much a good plating costs these days."

"At the end of the meal you may find out what good Ahi tuna costs," he promised. "The plating is free," he teased, taking an experimental bite of soup before putting down his spoon.

"How kind of 'em," he said with a pleased sarcastic tone before popping a bite into his mouth, and after half a beat, hummed his deep approval and took another bite. "Unless it's crazy, it'll be worth it. This is good."

He eyed Malcolm and his bowl. "What about you?"

Maclolm grinned. "It's vegetable soup. There's only so far you can go with it. But I'll keep it down, so I guess that's a ringing endorsement," he noted as he took another bite.

So long as he was actually going to be eating it. The spoon was intent, and with the way Malcolm had put it down, Raylan had to wonder. He grinned in return as he cut another piece.

"How do you feel about Cracker Jacks?"

Malcolm cocked his head slightly.

"...The candied popcorn and peanuts?" he clarified. Or was it some kind of Southern slang he wasn't familiar with?

"Yeah. Like in the rhythm. Ya know. 'Take me out to a ballgame?'" As well read as Malcolm was.. he had to, right?

"I've heard of it," Malcolm said, taking a careful bite of soup. "I've never tried it. It seems like... it has a lot going on in there."

"Just some crunchy goodness. It's sweet popcorn with nuts. What's not to like?" He wasn't judging Malcolm, of course, his questions were just that. A way to learn a little more about the man sitting across from him.

"A valid point," Malcolm allowed with a smile. He looked at Raylan. "I'll try it if you're having it."

It cut down on waste if he didn't like it; he'd never experiment like that on his own.

"I will be," he promised, that way Malcolm could get ready for the flavor experience that was CrackerJacks. They chatted as they ate the rest of their meal, though Raylan kept checking his watch for the time and when the check came, he eyed it before eyeing Malcolm with a smirk and reaching for the check.

"Well, I was going to let you get the crackerjacks, but I'm going to have to get those now," he teased.

Raylan blinked in visible sticker shock as he clocked the total of the bill. "Well," he started, clearing his throat. "I guess its the least I can do for free tickets." Setting the bill down, he fished out his card and slipped it into the leather serving pad, trading it for his beer that he swiftly finished.

Malcolm smiled as he finished the last of his coffee.

"Good tickets. I hear," he noted lightly. "I didn't look at who they're playing. I hope it's an interesting... match? Game?" he asked, his face contorting slightly with the question.

"Game," Raylan confirmed with a laugh. "Made up of 9 innings. Least these type. Highschool and Little League get a shorter game. Trust me, smart guy like you? You're gonna have it down and figured out in no time."

He caught the waiters eyes and pointed at the check that was swiftly collected and returned with Raylan's card. Once the waiter left, Raylan let out a breath. "Ya know, having my bank cards hacked once; places like this, they alway make me worry that it's going to have happened at just the wrong time."

"I've got your back in the event of a bank hacking," Malcolm told him. "Unless we both get hacked on the same day," he admitted as they headed out.

He looked over as they stepped into the street. "Subway again?"

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