Raylan hated catching a bullet. The pain was annoying, the itch of healing skin drove him mad and not being able to draw like he normally does makes every hair on the back of his neck stiffen in warning. Art had warned him about barging in and his cover had been more lean than he thought. Honest mistake - only a flesh wound. A flesh wound that put him out of service for at least a month. Raylan bet he could get back into the field in three weeks though. Just long enough to miss the whole 'Christmas schtick' that the office and every other sane, jolly person was celebrating.
There was work that needed to be done on the house in Harlan anyway. With Arlo and Helen gone, Raylan really could use the free time to finish up or, in some cases, start a few projects, depending on the reach they demanded. But the country was still the country and his bat was kept next to the door, loaded shotgun companion with it to match the set leaned in the kitchen. He never paid any mind to the driveway facing windows but he heard the car pull up.
Anyone from the office would have called first, made sure he was still even at the house - so it wasn't them. Which left him with the most likely option - someone saw his car posted up in the driveway and ran down the road to tell someone else. The car had left. Someone had been dropped off. Someone didn't mean to leave. He was real short on ideas now, and the shotgun was collected silently on his way towards the door-
That was until he saw the hat, the familiar smoking stick. Doc hadn't been anywhere on his lists.
His door opens, the shotgun set gently to the side as he looks Doc up and down, stunned. Goddamn. He didn't look a fraction different standing in his door than Raylan had imagined.
"Yeah, figured it was about time they got one on the scoreboard." He steps back, opening the door further. The house was still decorated as it always had been, aside from the faint ghost of drywall in the air, accompanied with the smell of fresh wood and a cold fire. God it was good to see him. "Don't just stand out there, come in, have some with me and tell me how bad that cab fare was gettin' you all the way out here. How long'd it take you to get here?"
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There was work that needed to be done on the house in Harlan anyway. With Arlo and Helen gone, Raylan really could use the free time to finish up or, in some cases, start a few projects, depending on the reach they demanded. But the country was still the country and his bat was kept next to the door, loaded shotgun companion with it to match the set leaned in the kitchen. He never paid any mind to the driveway facing windows but he heard the car pull up.
Anyone from the office would have called first, made sure he was still even at the house - so it wasn't them. Which left him with the most likely option - someone saw his car posted up in the driveway and ran down the road to tell someone else. The car had left. Someone had been dropped off. Someone didn't mean to leave. He was real short on ideas now, and the shotgun was collected silently on his way towards the door-
That was until he saw the hat, the familiar smoking stick. Doc hadn't been anywhere on his lists.
His door opens, the shotgun set gently to the side as he looks Doc up and down, stunned. Goddamn. He didn't look a fraction different standing in his door than Raylan had imagined.
"Yeah, figured it was about time they got one on the scoreboard." He steps back, opening the door further. The house was still decorated as it always had been, aside from the faint ghost of drywall in the air, accompanied with the smell of fresh wood and a cold fire. God it was good to see him. "Don't just stand out there, come in, have some with me and tell me how bad that cab fare was gettin' you all the way out here. How long'd it take you to get here?"