tinstar | Slingin' from the hip, never the heart.

It was striking how exactly him all that sounded. The tone, the hoisting of her eyebrows - he didn't know how any of this was possible but he was starting to maybe possibly consider thinking about thinking about believing it.

"It's got a bed and a functionin' bathroom and no stains on the floor." So. Just oh so slightly better then where he was staying before. Shit. He was going to have to go back. Lindsey sure as hell wasn't going to understand this and no 15 year old should be staying above a bar if he can help it.

He sighs again. "I'm supposed to be in, in two hours and I'm sure as hell not gettin' anythin' done with it. I hear the delivery truck pullin' in, so as soon as I'm done with that, we'll go."

"Those aren't high standards, Dad." Seriously, it's a little concerning. She can't help calling him dad, even if none of this makes any sense. The way he talks is too much her dad, the way he looks is too much her dad. He can't be anyone else.

Wait, deliveries?

"Do you work here?"

Raylan only grunts a note at her opinion of his standards. He wasn't exactly in the best place right now and he didn't want to open that can of worms.

"No. I'm helpin' out the owner of the bar. Part of the lease agreement." And that was a 6 month agreement, though Raylan had been told he could stay longer if he wanted to. He wasn't going to tell her that. Walking over to the door, he pushes it open and kicks down the rubber stopper. Just in time to greet the guy, Raylan steps back out of the way and takes the invoice handed to him on a clipboard. A pen out of his back pocket, and he starts ticking off the boxes being wheeled in.

"I also bounce for him at night when I get in." It would only take about fifteen minutes.

This is... so, so weird. Her dad, taking deliveries at a bar, where he bounces at night? Just telling her that, like it was nothing. Defending his above-a-bar apartment, taking her to work. She watches him in confusion and fascination, ticking off items on the inventory sheet, but can't help her attention getting drawn to the door when someone else walks in.

She sits up and clears her throat, trying to sound authoritative. "Um, sorry, we're closed. Come back later."

The stocky, massive man snorts. "Ain't you a little young to be watching the door?"

Raylan barely glances at the door when the guy walks in - Willa said exactly what he would, but the snort and the response told him plenty, earning the slide of his eyes up to the broad man.

"She's right. We're closed. Open at 4pm, you can come back then."

The guy sweeps his gaze over to Raylan, and lifts what little chin his thick neck allows him, gaze scrutinizing. "And who the hell are you?"

"The one takin' inventory, so if you'll be kind enough to let me get back to it-"

The guy walks forwards, towards and behind the bar. Raylan lets him, brow furrowing a little at the audacity of it all and he flicks his eyes over at Willa and jerks his head a little towards the stairs she'd come down from.

"Where's Lindsey?" Randall grabs a glass and starts pouring from the tap.

"Look, I can offer some coffee, if you're that hard up. Milk maybe. Hell, I'd say you can take that, if it weren't illegal to walk around with it. On the house. But you can't stay here. The bar opens at four." The tension could be cut with a knife and Raylan was in the position of protecting Lindsey from some thicknecked creep who had too much of a fancy on the local bartender.

Raylan understood that, but as he was currently seeing her in the loosest possible terms, he knew he had to be careful. Nothing antagonistic while not bending like a reed, calm and firm. He didn't want to play the Federal card if he didn't have to but he also wasn't going to cower or posture at someone who would probably cold clock him into the end of the week. Willa didn't need to see that either.

Real shame he didn't have his gun on him.

Her dad points her toward the stairs. She slides off the stool, but doesn’t go any farther.

The guy behind the bar looks at Raylan, then at Willa, then Takes a swig from the glass. “It take your daughter to work day?”

"It's none of your business." The word themselves were blunt, harsh even. But his tone made it sound like he was answering a trivia question that was more than easy. He even smiled a little. Affable and unflappable. He wasn't going to let go of that power.

"If you'd rather get an escort out, I'm happy to call the local cops."

The man sniffs and looks over Willa again, clearly deciding how far he wanted to take this. Raylan just tilts his head, expectantly.

"Hey," he says, snapping a few times until the guy's eyes swung back to him. Raylan lifts his eyebrows slightly in question. "How do you want this to go down? Because I promise it'll end with you bein' booked at the courthouse."

The guy considers it, considers it some more like taking up the silence that the Marshal so easily sat in, before draining his glass, aggressively not breaking eye contact with Raylan as his throat works and works to swallow it all. When he was done, he smacks his lips with a satisfied sigh and slams the glass back down on the bar top.

"Guess I'll come back at four then."

"That'd be a wise idea," Raylan drawls, cool as a jello salad, keeping his forced polite smile that fell as soon as the guy started to move away. Willa had spent her whole life with Raylan, no doubt she can pick up on the Ping of Something Dad Don't Like radar.

She certainly can. She’s never seen it quite so nakedly. It’s always been a dull glow, not an open blaze.

“Who’s Lindsey?”

"Bartender works part time here." His eyes haven't left the door yet and he looks like he's chewing on the inside of his cheek. "Pretty too, opens her up to all sorts of weirdos."

There was no hesitation in his lie, it came unbidden and well practiced - his business was his and his alone. Besides, no teenage girl wanted to know about their dad's love life. He was pretty sure that was standard issue with teenagers.

He takes a deep breath, eyes settling back on her.

"I'll make a call, let her know. And the owner too. We'll keep her safe." Don't worry.

There’s no hitch to the lie, it makes perfect sense, and she doesn’t have a reason to question it. She hasn’t actually seen him around this woman yet, and she has seen him around a lot of women who thought they were more subtle than gen z is worldly.

She climbs back onto the stool.

“I know you will,” she says softly. She can’t help remembering her own accusation and the look on his face right after she said it. If you wanted me here you’d find a way to keep me safe.

She’d meant it. She also just knew it would hurt.

“You always do.”

"Well that's somethin'." Good job future him, he supposes. Always good to know he hasn't lost his edge. With one more steely glance towards the door, Raylan goes back to checking off boxes as he rubbernecks the stacks being set inside the bar, oblivious to the drama of the beefy dude flexing for no reason.

He finishes with the incoming inventory quickly and signs off on the invoice, sending the deliver man off. Raylan lifts a finger to Willa as he lets the unmoored door close behind him.

"Five minutes, lemme go get dressed, make a call and we're leavin'."

He was a prompt man and five minutes later, he was trotting back down the stairs, now dressed in a button down shirt that wasn't done up, his gun, badge, hat.. Everything that Willa would find familiar about him.

"Let's hit bricks."

It’s reassuring. All the ways this Raylan and her-dad-Raylan are alike. She’s quiet, she goes where she’s told, and she buckles up without prompting

She’s scared, if she’s honest. Scared he doesn’t believe her and she’s about to go to a doctor or a social worker.

“What are you gonna tell people?”

"I don't know yet. But whatever I say, go with it." It would be better that way. WITSEC was always a good option; no one questioned that. He hadn't decided yet.

His driving hadn't changed at all, though he was, perhaps, a little more attentive to his mirrors. Never could tell if an asshole was going to make a stupid decision today or not. More often than not, they did and his backhairs were already up.

He glances over at her. "Are you really her?"

Go with it. For a moment, her lips pinch into annoyance, and her eyes narrow.

For once in your life, just say 'yes dad.'

"...Okay."

She looks out the window, missing his glance but turning back when she hears his question.

"Yeah," she says, quietly. Willa looks back out the window. "I don't have any idea how I'm here, but I'm her."

He didn't know how deep of a fight he gets to skip with Willa's 'okay' but he was grateful for the capitulation.

Of course, some part of Raylan would stay suspicious about all this until the core of him felt it was proven. Still, the rest of him caved to the tug of emotions. She was his daughter. Look at how big she'd gotten. How tall. Brave to have not cried already. Sure as shit looking better than he did at fifteen.

He lets the silence sit between them until he rolls into the Courthouse parking lot, throwing the car into park and taking out his keys, but not quite getting out of the car yet.

"We'll go for lunch in a few hours if nothin' gets in the way. I can.. call Winona in the mean time."

She'd been studying the courthouse as they pulled in, memorizing every detail she could in case she wakes up on the plane again.

When he says he'll call her mom, Willa tenses. She doesn't think her mother would react any worse than her dad, really. She has no reason to think that. But there's always an edge of judgement in her mother that she never feels from him.

"What d'you think she'll say?"

"Honestly kiddo, it's anyone's guess. C'mon." Raylan opens his door, slides out of the car and starts ambling towards the Marshal's entrance, glancing back to make sure she's keeping up with him so he can lock the car with the remote, the reassuring beep beep sounding behind them.

He opens the door for her and follows her in. The first guard they see, standing at the end of the short hall next to a metal detector and an xray machine.

"Well hey Marshal!" the guard says in greeting. An older man with a bit of a beer gut and a friendly kind of smile, he turns the same harmless energy on Willa, with a- "And little Willa!" he gestures them through. "Been a while since we've seen you around here, you havin' a fun day with your dad?"

Raylan was openly shocked. What??

Kiddo, he says, and there's something incredibly comforting about his nicknames being the same even now. If she was willing to completely let go of her dignity, she might have tried to take his hand, but she's too proud. Too proud and too scared that he might not want to take hers.

Her head is still on a swivel as they walk inside, even though it's yet another courthouse. She snaps to when the guard says her name though, asks her that, and she's just as shocked as Raylan.

At the guard's concern, she tries to pull her head together. "Um. Yeah."

She sort-of-laughs. "How long has it even been?"

She's still her father's daughter.

A very good question and one Raylan was eager to hear the answer to. With light fingers, he urges Willa through the machine and to the other side, where he stands next to her with one hand cocked up on his hip.

"A couple of years, I think. That right Raylan?"

Raylan stares for a long second, face pinching in slightly. "Yeah, Don. Couple of years sounds about right."

Don continues on, talking about how cute she'd been but that he shouldn't keep them from their day and it was a pleasure seeing her around again. Raylan nods his head a little, with a soft thanks as he leads Willa away.

"Okay, now I'm really lost," he murmurs to her as they head towards the elevators. A door opens as soon as Raylan hits the button, and he shuffles her in, stopping someone who was trying to join them. "Protected travel, catch the next one."

Everyone in the courthouse was used to that kind of thing, so it wasn't a problem, but Raylan turns to look at Willa with a little bit of a wild look in his eyes.

"Is any part of this makin' any sense to you?"

"I've never been here before. You don't even talk about Kentucky." She's as mystified as he is.

Willa follows him into the offices, wondering if she'll recognize any faces or names. She's heard of Art Mullins, mostly secondhand from her mom or Raylan's current Miami coworkers, now and then.

What she doesn't expect is for the pretty Black woman with a desk in the same cubicle as Raylan's to smile at her in open welcome. "Hey, Willa. We heard you were coming back to town. Here to stay this time?"

She opens her mouth. Closes her mouth. And looks up at her dad, mystified.

Once he gets out of here, he maintains there's simply no need. Nothing for anyone he loves here, nothing for him. To hell with the past, and it's ghosts.

Raylan keeps his painfully confused look as they step into the offices and it doesn't change with Rachel's greeting. So it's not just Don. He had to wonder if Winona would know too, like some big cosmic joke was being played on him and Willa. He needed to make that call.

"For a couple days at least, Rachel," he answers, supplying her name for Willa's sake only. "We haven't really decided the rest yet - Can you-" He gestures at Willa with a finger and Rachel nods, setting down her pen and leaning back in her chair. Raylan gestures towards his desk at Willa and starts to walk away with - "Won't take me but a minute-" as he pulls his blackberry out of his inside jacket pocket. Stepping into the conference room, Raylan keeps half an eye on Willa as he dials up Winona's number and listens to the ringing.

Willa makes a noise of protestation over being given a babysitter when he's not even leaving the building and Rachel grins. "Come on, I'll show you my nephew's favorite gag when he visits me."

Winona picks up after the fourth ring, with unsettled baby noises close to the receiver. "Yeah, Raylan, what is it?"

Ah. He could tell she wasn't in a great mood. The fussing was about right - Never stops bitching, Winona had once said, exhausted from days of it, and he still couldn't help but wonder if soemthing was wrong with Willa to make her cry that much. Winona assured him she had it under control, thank you, and to mind his own business about it.

"I got somethin' real weird to ask you."

"Okay?" 'Get on with it then'.

"You've.. Everythin' alright there?"

"Well Willa hasn't slept in what feels like four days, I can't find anyone to watch her during book club for this whole month and we were supposed to be out the door to go to Gayle's a half hour ago, but I can't set her down without hearin' all kinds of hell about it, so if you've got somethin' to ask me, please get on with it."

He took and let a deep breath. "I-I got a girl in the office here, showed up at my apartment this mornin'. Out of my apartment this morning. Say's she's Willa. 15 years old."

Maybe he just needed to hear from someone else that this was crazy. That he was crazy.

"What?" She's distracted, yeah, but there's something in her tone that says she's clearly not truly hearing him, either. "Raylan, what on earth are you talking about. Someone named Willa broke into your apartment?"

Willa herself is pretending to look for fugitives to offer Raylan as possible date options. But as soon as Rachel gets called away by someone--someone else who knows Willa's name--she's looking up Clement Mansell. And trying to print what comes up before anyone comes back.

"Yeah, I guess.." It sounded stupid when he said it all out loud. He knew that.

"Okay? And? You know what to do with kids. Find someone in the office to call CPS, let them handle her."

"Winona, she knows stuff. Specific type stuff that I find it hard to believe would be a research packet for a fifteen year old girl. She-.. " He sighs out his nose and looks back over to see Willa behind his desk and typeing away.

He knocks on the window to get her attention and shakes his head. Don't do that.

"Shit, Winona, she looks like us."

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

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