Deputy US Marshal Givens

For a sizeable state, Kentucky people had a way of getting around. The whole idea of small towns being hard to get out of was eased when you got to travel a little bit, even if you landed back in the same depressing place. Nevermind that most of Kentucky looked that way- people knew people. People saw New people like they were glaring thumbs and now that Raylan had moved, people were seeing him elsewhere. They were seeing Malcolm to, who, for all his good intents, still hadn't rubbed off all of the tells of New York.

The jeans and tshirts were a start.

Raylan knew that, at any given time, there was a chance that someone was watching him. It was a fact of life he'd long come to grips with and with the dust he tended to kick up, it was bound to bring out the brave idiots with something to prove. Malcolm being who he was, it made Raylan only a little nervous to bring him into the scope of trouble, instead of the furious protective scenarios he had to instill in Winona to be sure she'd be safe.

Having left Malcolm in the early mid morning to go to work, Raylan had no idea who it was strolling up to his door.

Three solid but measured polite knocks were rapped on the door around 1pm.