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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[greenzone]

For a moment after her dad says he smeared across the street, Willa just stares, wide-eyed. He's never been half that blunt with her. It takes her about five--well, no, more like three--minutes to start bombarding him with questions again.

What did he do for fun as a kid? Where was his favorite place to go? Is it still there? Who were his friends? What were they like? Arlo is his dad, right?

[tinstar]

A good way to discourage questions like that was with some dark, stark truths and, without the benefit of experience with her, time to chew over his choices and options about how to deal with these things, he was going on his gut. Something he almost regrets as soon as Willa launches in and he does his best to field them.

Check out a lot of abandoned barns, a little grove in a nearby holler by a creeks, he supposes it's still there, though they might get shot at if they're not careful about it; he declares Willa doesn't need to know about his friends and yeah, his daddy was Arlo and that was the only thing she needed to know about him.

Raylan's jaw got a little tighter after that though, and he steers the conversation towards what she could expect to see, peppered with him gesturing out a window every time they passed cows. Finally, he turns them down a seemingly random dirt road to come to a stop in front of the two story, rundown and shabby looking house.

"Here it is," he says with a sigh, turning off the car and slipping out.