It was midday in Raylan's morning, he had no reason to lounge in bed when Lindsey wasn't around, and he was pouring over an empty legal pad that, no matter how hard he tried, wasn't reflecting all the words he was supposed to already have worked out. Why Dickie Bennett shouldn't be released from Jail.

'It would be less of a pain in the ass' wasn't a very good reason, no matter how true it was.

He knew he was alone in the bar. He knew Lindsey wouldn't be in for a few hours, nor would the truck and this weeks deliveries. So when he heard the creak of the stairs, he was thoroughly confused. Raylan slides off his barstool, hand sliding back to the gun at the small of his back, readying himself for something if necessary.

The idea of readiness fell back a little at the sight of the girl, blonde hair and blue eyes oddly familiar, something Raylan ascribed to the number of blonde haired, blue eyed girls that he had seen over his life. His features pinch, eyes locked steady on her as soon as she came into his view and his ears tilt towards the upstairs.

"Lotta work to get into them windows up there," he says in way of greeting, in way of asking. Did she have a partner? He'd say she was young for a life of robbing places but age never stopped anything.