Slingin' from the hip, never the heart. | Open Post

[tinstar]

Raylan's job took him everywhere, from Harlan to Los Angeles to Paris. The Marshals service was demanding but Raylan leaned into the work, traveling as needed to get to get his man.

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[citharede]

She pauses as she passes him, not out of wariness, but there’s so much in her expression. Longing, anxiety, uncertainty. Under it all a little bit of fear.

I guess I got sick of being scared, she’d said once. Or something like it. He’d said some day they’d make sure she would be sick of being happy, or something like that. She remembers that conversation. Vaguely. Like a dream or something she rehearsed in a mirror.

Still, looking him in the face this close, it’s impossible not to remember the way she felt around him when she was younger, too. Safe.

Safe.

“Jesus,” her voice is teasing, but it’s lost its relentlessly perky edge. “You’re going white above your ears, old man.”

[tinstar]

It hurt him to see all that on her face. He should have done better. He'd promised her happiness. And here she was, some 7 years older and he could still see little bits and pieces of the little girl (teenager) that he had wrapped up without question once they landed back into his reality. She was still in there somewhere, maybe hiding in a smile or a groan over the unhealthy fast food that Athena had relished in so much.

He can't help but smile a little at the comment. "At least half of these are because of you so I hope you're ready to own that." When'd she get so grown?

[citharede]

It gets a smile. A tiny, brief pull of a smile, a very Raylan kind of smile, but one big enough to show her dimples. "Good. I hope Willa gave you the rest."

She looks around more carefully this time as they go back to the kitchen, noting the changes, what's stayed the same. Athena has no impulse to show off her Gift, but she remembers doing that here, when she realized it came back to her. She traces her fingertips slowly across the countertop, memories drifting to the surface and making her feel strange.

But the coffee maker is the same coffee maker. And it works. And the beans are still pre-ground in an industrial sized jar. She smiles as she makes it up, another one of those brief little ghost expressions. "God, this is fucking... weird."

She looks over her shoulder at Raylan. "I didn't think they'd put out any kind of BOLO on me. They've kept things so quiet until now, they have to be planning something."