"That depends," he said as he stood up and closed what little space was between them. He looked down at Raylan and admired the view for a moment. There was an odd cross of feelings that chewed up his insides when he looked at the lawman like this. He could start carving into that canvas, listen to the music soar as he tortured the man in front of him, paint the room bloody red. The temptation was there. It burned within him. He missed those old glorious days.

But there was also something else that curled around his gut and it was still new and raw, and bloody in its own right as John had taught him, still attempting to scratch its way out. It hurt to consider as much as it excited him, and there was a pit of apprehension just beneath it. It was not something he fully understood yet but he had been learning. He had been craving it since the damn boat shoved it into him against his will.

Maybe there were other ways to make the music soar. There was really only one way to find out and that was to try. He looked at Givens expectantly.