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

He chuckled again at the bravado. "I like you, bull. Not a worry on yer lips, not a single tell ta give ya away. You play poker?"

It was a rhetorical question. He didn't give any time to answer immediately.

"Oh, I still like ta play a dangerous game or two. I don't think there was ever any gettin' rid of that. Do you?"

"No. But the question now is, what game?"

As much as he did like poker, of course a man like him liked poker, he doubted Collins was planning on pulling out a deck of cards and dealing them a hand. He supposes he should be worried about Collins liking him and his bravado, but he wasn't. There'd been a few men who felt a particular way about this aspect of Raylan's personality; no matter how they felt, it was something that could usually be worked. Open a door here and there, maybe.

"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.

Raylan keep Collins gaze as he moved, not unaware of this not being the first time that Collins has been between his knees, a thought that was very quickly shoved back into it's box along with any ideas that might follow. Foolishness would get him killed, if he let it rear too much of its head. He was also aware of the spike of adrenaline in him, one that took a little playfulness off his edges as he internally twists in anticipation, unsure if Collins was gonna kiss him or punch him. There were a few paths he could consider Collins taking but he wasn't confident in a single one of them. He didn't care for that feeling.

"If you were worried about my comin' after you, you wouldn't'a done this. Are you lookin' for help then?" Help getting used to the time, the society - It was his best guess.

Collins chewed on his lip. The question hit straight to home and that bothered him. He suddenly dug into the bottom of his lip enough to cause it to bleed, then he stopped altogether. The red stayed staining his lip.

He smiled. "I confess there are some complexities to this world that I don't fully understand yet." He knocked one of his knees gently against one of Givens's. "I read as much as I could in tha library of that prison, but it ain't quite tha same, you know? You know."

Ah. There it was. Hit his mark even without a firearm in his hand. The gentle knock of their knees told Raylan a lot too - he had made an impression, some kind of difference, in the frightfully short time he had been paired with and generally around Collins. The Irishman had done all this to avoid Raylan's greeting being the discharge of his firearm in Collins direction.

"I know." He nods a little with the answer, still steadily studying Collins face, up from his perspective.

"How's about let's start with you untyin' my hands. I'll pour you a drink."

Collins's eyes flicked towards Raylan's wrists where he was tied down. The man's legs were in much the same fashion though he had left the man the dignity of his fancy boots whereas if his first priority was to torture he would have stripped them. The lawman's chest was lightly fashioned as well but not enough to chafe, just keep motion to a minimum. That was mostly out of habit.

"You have somethin' worth offerin', bull?" It may or may not have been about the drink.

"That depends," he drawls, lips curling at the edges as he tosses Collins words back at him.

"How drunk you lookin' to get?"

The Irishman smiled wickedly at the lawman. "I don't get drunk, boyo."

Whether it was a simple boast of stamina or a statement of fact that he had more discipline than that he left for Raylan to guess.

"Well now I find that hard to believe. Somethin' else you'll find out about this time period - the drinks are stronger and the drugs are stronger. Either that or you're not drinkin' with the right kinda people."

It was technically the end of his day, though he had been going out to get something to eat and chase down a lead, for all he talked about time, he could have some on his hands. Enough at least, to pay this whole situation the due attention it demanded.

"I promise I won't shoot ya."

"Bull, I went through the prohibition. You either got tha good shit, or ya got tha shit that was liable ta kill ya. Either way, I bet I can out drink you."

Marshal, never challenge an Irishman to a drinking contest.

He leaned down and rested one hand on Givens's thigh, making their eyes almost level. "You don't have anything left ta shoot me with. And you ain't tha only sharpshooter in tha room besides."

He pushed off and stood back to his height. "Now, stop sayin' stupid shite before I change my mind and just get rid of ya."

Collins didn't know how deep Harlan's connections with prohibition had been, or that Raylan had grown up on mountain moonshine. No, he knew exactly what prohibition had brought to dry counties. What it was still bringing to some places.

But now was clearly not the time to keep challenging the man.

"'Fraid I don't know your scale of stupid, you'll have to forgive me as I adjust." He sounded amused by it, if nothing else.

Collins eyes narrowed at the cheek of the lawman. But if there was one thing he liked about Raylan Givens it was the man's bold attitude in the face of overwhelming odds. It was highly entertaining. Luckily for Givens, Collins liked to be entertained.

"Well, I did say if I wanted you disappeared, you'd be gone." He admitted lightly. So they both knew he wasn't here to kill Raylan just yet.

He set his hand on the marshal's wrist where the ropes were tied and rubbed his thumb along the back of Raylan's hand as he stared at the other man levelly, as if he were considering his next move. He could untie the lawman, or he could have more fun.

The fact that Collins hadn't untied him yet, hadn't fallen down the path of charm that Raylan was trying to lay to better his situation, tells him that 'help' is only part of it. The rest of it is tucked behind that brush of thumb against the back of his hand. The closest Raylan thinks Collins might get to a tender touch.

His face pinches oh so slightly with curiosity flavored confusion. He couldn't do much in the way of reciprocation, trapped as he was, and since that was Collins choice, he figures that the man is wrestling with something. Something specific to Raylan. To how he felt about him.

"Do you know why you're here?" It was said with a matching soft curiosity. He wasn't trying to barb or goad with the ask. Just trying to understand.

His eyes flicked up to catch Raylan's with the question. There was a flash of annoyance behind the cold, blue-gray eyes briefly before it was replaced by a hesitant softness. The vulnerability looked strange on the Butcher face. Unpracticed.

"I didn't have anywhere else ta go."

Raylan could have scorned it, made fun, or worse, made it a joke, but he didn't do any of that. It was a lonely thing, to not have anywhere to go. To not have a place to be able to launch off from. He stayed in that soft but serious tone, a faint lift of his eyebrows coming with his words.

"Then let's start this off on a better foot. Untie me, instead of settin' yourself up for thinkin' that I agree to anythin' just because I'm strapped to a chair."

His hand gripped at Raylan's wrist briefly. It was neither soft nor hard, just a noticeable squeeze of pressure at all points of contact. Then it was gone as well as his hand from the rope.

He leaned down again this time with a faint smirk on his lips. "But I always get what I want outta men strapped to a chair, bull. One way or another."

"Gettin' what you want either way, as far as I see it. Unless you think I'm lyin'." His head tilts a little, eyes back to studying Collins features like he would find the code to crack him in them.

"Unfortunately, nothin' I can say is gonna change your point of view on that. You're gonna have to choose to trust me or we're at somethin' of an impasse here."

"Am I?" he asked almost innocently. There was, of course, nothing left of innocence in the old Irishman. He giggled softly, like a bit of air escaping without permission.

"You haven't offered me anything but a drink so far, bull. What am I ta gain from that?"

Raylan takes and lets a breath out of his nose, jaw flexing a little as he keeps his patience, in sharp contrast to Collins giggling.

"A lot can come with a drink. First steps. Like hashing out what it is you actually need. A room, a place to stay? Somethin' to eat? We can get room service up here. You know I don't live here, right? Here in New York?"

Edited 2024-03-04 11:21 (UTC)

"Is that so?" Of course he figured Givens didn't live right here in this motel room, but he hadn't given much thought as to where the marshal actually did live. He supposed he could be curious where that was.

Collins shifted his stance slightly so that one of his legs was on the outside of Givens's own. His gaze was on the point of contact he created with their knees again rather than the lawman's stare. His knee tapped idly against Raylan's knee in a slow rhythm. "And where is that then?"

It wasn't just for help and wasn't just to keep him from getting his gun. Suddenly, Raylan has to wonder if Collins decided to cop a feel while he was hauling the Marshal in, and does the math for just how many times Collins has touched him while he was awake. Four times, four touches so far. The invasion of space, the hot breath against his ear that had long since cooled but he still felt anyway, he couldn't argue that there was, in fact, sexual tension.

He tilts his head the other way a little, only glancing at Collins half straddle of his leg before he was back to watching the man's face.

"Trade you a rope for an answer." Look, he had to try, and Collins had tied him up pretty damned thoroughly. "Were you carryin' this much rope?" He glances around, like he might catch the sight of a bag or something.

"It's a useful tool," he stated matter-of-fact. His eyes flicked up as he noticed Givens glancing around the room. From his position the marshal probably couldn't see the bag Collins had brought with him, tucked away on the other side of the bed.

The assassin tilted his head to one side as if contemplating the deal Raylan wanted to make. "Look at me," he demanded, tone suddenly less friendly. He waited till the marshal returned his gaze to the contract killer and then smiled, voice returning to the casual cheer from before. "I want somethin' else, if I'm bein' honest."

The impulse to look up right away still kicked and kicked hard, but it was a response to power that Raylan kept power of by not letting impulse win. His gaze slowly moves back up, that spit and fire always at a ready hand if he needed to use it. He remembers how Collins was that one time back in the Enclosure, how aggressive Collins was when he wanted something.

There was no question in his mind what Collins wanted. That wasn't going to stop him from asking, from making him say it. It also didn't stop his own personal struggle with trying to avoid having an.. engorging reaction. Sitting at almost half mast already, he was hoping it wasn't noticeable in the folds of his jeans.

"And what's that?" His tone was just as casual as it had been, only a little more pointed as it was posed as a soft challenge with a faint lift of his eyebrows and the edges of his lips.

Edited 2024-03-04 23:17 (UTC)

His smile grew into a cat's grin as if he had already seized himself the canary. "Another game, bull. You remember tha one."

He leaned over again, hand on Raylan's thigh once more, dangerously close to discovering the lawman's secret. Maybe it became apparent when he touched the tension filled pants, but it definitely became obvious when Collins shifted his thumb just so to trail a line over Raylan's member through the line of material. The Butcher's eyebrows rose in amusement at the same time his grin enlarged even further.

"Oh. You remember it well, apparently. Do you want ta play, then?" He asked and their faces were close, close enough to breath in each other, close enough to touch with minimum movement.

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