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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"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?"

"If anyone would have that luck." Raylan huffed a breath with the statement, glancing up and down the street out of habit before nodding in answer. "I'll take any chance I get to slide an arm around you. I really thought they'd run a little more smoothly than they do, but I guess, considering how old the line is.."

Made some kinda sense, though he wasn't going to be able to lay it out.

"Maybe it's designed for innocent arms to slide around people," he suggested, wanting to lean in and kiss him at that, but refraining. He looked at him. "So the right drink at baseball is beer, right?"

Maybe it was. "Sneaky New York designs," he huffed with smirk as they made their way down the sidewalk.

"Yes, beer. Anything else costs too much and hell, beer is almost on that list. Beer, crackerjacks and hotdogs, if you're hungry, though I only get those once and while. Tend to be a little greasy for my likin'."

"I'll have you know I just ate almost a half a bowl of soup. Minus a handful of crackerjacks, and a beer, I'm probably good until tomorrow," he joked, but it sort of wasn't a joke.

He led them back down into the subway to find their train.

He chuckled, but he knew it wasn't quite a joke. It was a bold statement.

"Yeah, I didn't think so. It takes a lot to eat after eating on top of beer; beer's heavy. It's the hops." He jogged down the stairs again, following Malcolm through the process til they were on a platform again. "How long have you been ridin' this thing? Seems like too many stops to keep track of."

"I used to ride all the time when I was younger, but not since I came back to town; I mostly take taxis. When I was young, I guess it was an adventure," he admitted.

"As an adult, it's an adventure," Raylan assured. "And I haven't even ridden it at night."

The train pulled up and Raylan gestured for Malcolm to step on first before following behind. NYC must be a busy city; he still hadn't seen sitting room and he wasn't mad about it. Any excuse to get a hand on Malcolm, some soft connection of reality.

"Taxis seem more... sanitary, if nothing else." As though to suggest that there was a big list of things wrong with the beloved public transport of the Big Apple.

"Worth the price, if you're not stuck in traffic. I read something once that said walking the streets was more time efficient for short travels but they funnel people down here because the sidewalks would be overflowing and unmoveable if everyone was up there."

Malcolm considered that.

"I never thought about it. It is pretty crowded up there," he admitted, relishing Raylan's hand against him in public, even if it was disguised as pragmatism. He knew what it was. "That's very plausible."

"I don't suppose you know the population of the city?" Raylan asked with a lift of his eyebrows. Malcolm was so smart, Raylan couldn't help a little trivia quiz to test that higher education as he stole his indulgences of having Malcolm close to and in contact with him.

"Hell, the fact that they dug these tunnels out is pretty damn impressive. Feat of engineering." Which clearly fascinated Raylan and earned a little bit of his admiration. It was similar to mining. No one working on the line was doing it for the love of the idea.

"About... eight million," he said. "Which doesn't even put it in the top ten globally. Tokyo has something like thirty-seven million," he related.

He glanced around as Raylan mentioned the engineering of the tunnels and put the same two and two together. "Oh, you dug tunnels. You know what's involved."

"Top Ten," Raylan half laughed with a breath. "Feels like New York thinks it's a competition." He grinned crookedly; it was part of the charm of the City and its people. Including the man he had a hand slipped around, a little more bold about it than he had before.

"Well, mines, but they go all kinda ways. Same concept. With the lights and the car and the concrete and the tiles at your stops, you guys cover the fact that you're in a hole in the ground pretty well." But people like him were still, front brain, aware of what they were really in, if you cut out the drapes and bullshit. The 'Security Theatre' of being underground.

"Lots more room than a mine..." He glanced at the pack car. "Almost."

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