Boyd's smile slides in like a knife and he spreads his hands, benevolent. "All's I'm saying is, if she's here for the duration, she could do worse than being under the protection of Boyd Crowder and his people."

Inside, sitting at the kitchen table with Ava, Athena fidgets and resists the urge to run back outside. She can still hear the murmur of voices, but they're calm voices, so that's... more something than not. Even if Raylan is the master of threatening with the gentleness of a feather.

She looks at Ava. "He's okay, right? You think he's okay? Do you have a gun or... something...? We can help."

"I wouldn't, little lady." A soft voice comes from a corner before Ava can answer, and a man steps out, gun raised. It's not pointed at Athena. It's pointed at the blonde woman. Athena freezes. The stranger smiles.

"Good girl. Now, see that little stack of cloth napkins on the table? You’re going to roll one of those up and put it in your mouth. Then you’re gonna tie another one about your head to keep it there. Then I'm gonna move this gun from her to you, and we're gonna take a little walk to the front porch."

The man looks at Ava. "If you think I won't shoot this girl to keep you in line, you don't know me half so well as I thought, Ava Crowder."

He smiles at Athena. “Her, though, I wouldn’t have shot. Boyd would kill me. Up.”

Boyd is in the middle of speaking as the front door opens and Athena—gagged, hands behind her head—gets pushed out onto the porch. Whatever Boyd was going to say, he stops, raising his eyebrows.

Every other man pulls their weapons, and most of them get fixed on Raylan.

“Well,” Boyd says, tone as soft as ever. “An unexpected piece has been placed back on the board. Thank you, Carl.”