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

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.

A new shot of adrenaline races through his veins like liquid fire as Collins leans in, hand full of anticipatory reach, but to his credit, he doesn't jump or flinch at the touch. The same cannot be said as Collins brushes over him, whole body twitching once as he tilts his head like he might kiss him, breath sharply inhaled through lightly bared teeth.

"This ain't there, Collins. There's consequences here. If not for you, then for me."

In full honesty to himself, Collins scared him a little. He was very much a dangerous man, capable of putting Raylan down for good and cheating to do it. And what would Willa do, who would she become, without him around? The Barge provided him a guarantee of safety that the real world couldn't. He also couldn't trust that his inclination wouldn't be used against him here in a way that made it clear to others what he may or may not enjoy.

There was a lot of baggage built into the walls that kept Raylan Givens alive. A lot that he couldn't set down so easily out here.

That didn't stop his cock from continuing to get hard. For everything he had to protect in this world, a radical amount was denied. Can't exactly find someone willing to tie you up and whip you, and remain secure and anonymous. He wanted the rough tumble he knew was behind the words, but he couldn't have it.

There was a flash of something dark and angry--and hurt--within Collins's eyes at the easy denial. Yet despite their position, the Butcher pushed away and straightened out without a fuss. No more touch. Neither of hand nor knee. The earlier expression was covered up as the killer now regarded Givens with a cool, impassive gaze from above.

"And what of consequences do you fear, bull?" he said, sounding bored.

The killer's gaze flicked to his hands now as he examined them. The blunt nails were a little less than immaculate and might need tidying up soon. He had a weapon on him and tools nearby if he wanted to grab one. He didn't think the intimidation would make a difference to the lawman and he wasn't certain he wanted that anyway. What was the point if it was just that.

But there was that desire to make the bull sing, listen to his song for one final time, then walk away. If he couldn't have it any other way maybe he would just go back to what he was good at. That had always been enough in the past. It would be fine now, too.

God he wanted a drink. The soothing comfort of a warm burn would be perfect right now. He saw the expression change on Collins face, the air of detachment that Collins like to take that made other people wonder if what came before it was genuine or not - but Raylan's gut said the face he was currently looking at was the mask. The lie of it all, likely in the name of self protection.

And how often had he done that himself.

"You pull some bullshit, I end up comin' after you, any case that might be made gets ruined right out if anyone finds out about us 'playin' games' together." Raylan didn't much care for that kind of vocabulary; they were adults and he was of the mind they should call a screw a screw, but it was hardly the most important thing right now.

"I'd like to think you gettin' off that boat means that maybe you aren't keen to take your normal well beaten path." Collins would prove him right or wrong either way, but Raylan didn't have enough information himself to guess which way the Irishman would go.

"Then again, I am strapped down to a chair currently."

Edited 2024-03-09 19:24 (UTC)

"Easy prey," he said with more lilt than typical. Like it was meant to represent the fun he was going to have of it, when in reality it was covering up the disappointment that easiness turned out to be.

Collins walked away. He knelt on the other side of the bed and the small sounds indicated he was rummaging through an assortment. When he stood back up he had a length of wire held between his hands. The grip was familiar and sure. He paused back in front of Raylan now.

He shook his head. "You come after me I'd expect you ta do tha courtesy of finishin' tha game permanently. Don't you remember? It's all I ever wanted."

Not all that Barge bullshit. He hadn't wanted any of that. The small community, the shenanigans, the magic, the forced lives and emotions that came along with them. All of it stuffed inside and hurting, confusing. Turning him into something he didn't understand much less want.

"But we can skip all that if ya want. I'll hear yer music either way."

"If you were really here for sport, you woulda given me at least a chance to show you a good time," he counters, one finger gesturing from where it was tied down. "And I don't kill men unless I'm not given another choice, you already know that."

So Collins would have to force his hand. Make that choice.

Raylan didn't let it show, but his stomach twists in terrified anticipation as Collins stands with the wire in his hand. This could not be how Raylan went out. This was bullshit.

"This is bullshit," he states, now getting a little annoyed. "You didn't come here to kill me and you didn't come here just to fuck me either. You put me down, Collins, and whatever you actually came here for is gone and you have a whole branch of the US Government crawling all over this city inside 4 hours. Fuck yourself over and for what? Me not barkin when you say speak?"

No world that Raylan rolls over and begs or tries to trade on material things as desperate promises. He couldn't do much, tied as he was, but he is tense anyway, readied as he can be with an unmistakeable fury in his face.

There were a lot of words that could be said. He thought of plenty of sentences that wanted to get out based on what Givens said to him first. Plenty of responses aching to get out. Most of them full of bravado and stubbornness.

Most of them useless in this moment other than as asides. The meat of the problem was buried somewhere deeper than all that. That left him with two choices: continue down the familiar path of anger and doggedness, or risk the fire leaping out into the open. He couldn't seem to make that first step, not on his own. He stared at Givens with that impassive expression on his face. But maybe the lawman would take it for him.

"And what did I actually come here fer then, bull? What great insight do ya have ta share today?"

The fact that Collins didn't respond with some dick swinging bravdo was a good sign. Raylan was onto something. The question was could he narrow down to the specifics enough to really hit that nail home. Thankfully, his pissed off tone wasn't any louder than his normal speaking voice and there was nothing to do about it being angry either way.

But Raylan takes a deep breath in through his nose and his jaw works as he pulls himself back from telling Collins to get it over with it or let him up. A long moment of silence sat heavy between them.

"You came here for connection and understandin'. For someone who ain't here to coddle you or lie to you. For a way to survive and live a life that ain't myriad in blood and loneliness."

He pauses for half a heartbeat. "And I ain't sayin' no to that." Even if maybe he should be, considering.

There was a stony silence between them after the words were said and gone. It matched the killer's lifeless stare. Then the image cracked as the Butcher burst into laughter, light and mocking.

"Is that what yer offerin'? And you see me goin' fer that?" His tone was easy but there was more mockery there, too.

Then it all disappeared again behind the brightness of fiery anger. An easy emotion to fall back on for someone like the Butcher.

"You goin' ta set me on tha straight and narrow path, bull." He took a step forward. "Goin' ta make an honest man of me? You think I rolled over... and now I want that fake bullshite."

Another step, quicker, eliminating all space between them and he reached out to wrap the wire around Raylan's neck. The string was pulled taunt but not enough to impend breathing--not yet.

"What makes you so special then. Go on, sing yer praises. Tell us."

"That's not what I-" But Collins was already moving and wrapping him up in the wire. Fuck. His hands grip into the wood, the corners of the armrests digging into his palms.

"I don't know. You're the one showed up here, I didn't go lookin'. You tell me. Or kill me and get it over with. I ain't a mind reader."

For one awful moment the noose was pulled tight, biting into flesh and cutting off precious air. Then the killer's muscles relaxed and the wire let up. It still remained in place, posed to finish what it started.

"You were tha only one that weren't tainted... forced... by unnatural ways ta have a connection. Yer tha only one-" He was still angry. He couldn't keep it out of his voice if he tried. "-that I have ta wonder why instead of fightin' ta keep tha realities straight."

Raylan struggles in his bonds, pressing his head back as hard as he can into Collins body, for what very little good it does him.

"Kill me and you'll never get that answer." If he were in a less precarious situation, he might have elaborated, but he was one good twist away from dying. Seemed like a time to be succinct.

He made a frustrated noise that sounded an awful lot like a vicious growl. "You think I don't know that? That it wouldn't be easier ta just get rid o' you and not worry about it, ever?"

He released his hold on one end of the wire and slipped back in place to be in Givens's face. His eyes burned with a murderous rage and if the earlier noise didn't make it clear how irritated he was then the obvious frustration in his expression certainly did.

"I could go back to tha way things were. To how simple and rewardin' it was. I never asked fer any of that crap. I never wanted ta change." He was breathing hard, the tension in his muscles clear from his grip still on one end of the wire. "I never wanted any... connections... or- I didn't need any of that then! And it would be easier ta sever that thread, right here, right now!"

Raylan knew Collins could do that, there were no delusions about how on the impulsive edge his fate rested right now, but all that matters is that the wire wasn't at his throat anymore - even if that was temporary, it was a reprieve. Striking out wasn't an option either as that would absolutely get him killed.

So he focuses instead on what Collins is choosing to say. A lot of past tenses. 'I never wanted connections, didn't need any of that'. Most importantly: 'its hard to kill you'. Even under the hard breathing and the obvious frustration, those weren't small things.

"Except if you not wantin' it, not needin' it factored into this, I'd already be bleedin' out. It scare you? Grip you with a concern that I'm gonna reject you and swear you off, promise to ruin your life, treat you the way you feel you oughta be treated-" Collins had earned a particular way of being treated and even though they weren't on the Barge anymore, Raylan could see the possibility in Collins. What he could become if he put in a little work and self reflection. What he could become if he had someone who understood, who might be able to support him.

This was not Raylan's natural way of thinking about things, but the time on the Barge had it's own effect. He knew progress could be made. He just had to make sure he didn't die in the midst of it.

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