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

Nodding a silent bob of appreciation, Raylan steps forward and gets into the cabinet, pulling out a half empty bottle of Jim Beam and a plastic cup. With a glance over - Not reaching for anything dangerous - he nabs the hotel's coffee mug and dumps out the prepackaged coffee that he hadn't gotten around to using yet.

"Neither, and no. You're grown, your decisions are your own; ain't my responsibility. I don't own you a thing since leavin' that space yacht and you ain't my dog." He remembers how fond Collins is of that analogy. He spins the cap off the bottle and pours them each a few fingers before setting it down in favor of picking up both cups and walking towards Collins to hold the mug out.

"Don't change my not wantin' to see you fail this place if something could be done to help. Or the fact that I'd rather not have to put you down, if I can help it. Call me sentimental." It was all a series of first steps and once Collins takes the mug, Raylan will step back and take a sip of his own, openly sighing in enjoyment as he eyes the cup.

"Last man I tried to help here was my husband. Much as it pains me to admit it, I failed. And maybe some part of me is tryin' to make up for that." He looks back over with the admission, nothing on him soft persay, but it was a carefully constructed 'easy' expression. Raylan hadn't been open on the Barge once James had left; most people didn't know about the union, even less knew what had come from it. His tone suggested that he'd already gone around all the barbs and self flagellation that could come from the shame of it all; digs weren't gonna bother him on a surface level, should Collins go that direction.

The grim smile returned with Givens's answer. The lawman remembered the dog bit, because of course he did. He accepted the mug without reluctance and held it in one hand, close to his chest, as he listened to the marshal continue. It was after the word 'sentimental' that he shook his head in wry amusement.

He could have said words then but Givens beat him to it. So he listened some more.

It was plain as day that he hadn't expected the story. There was plenty of information to unravel in such a small set of sentences and Collins fell thoughtfully quiet. He met the lawman's easy gaze with a cool one of his own. It wasn't quite as hard as it had been two seconds before.

"You brought someone from tha Barge here to yer home?" His voice was carefully modulated to hold neither bite nor pity. He didn't want to convey either of those things. He didn't want to pretend he felt them, or discover if maybe he did for real or not. "Was he an inmate?"

"He was," Raylan says with a nod, taking another drink deep enough to empty his cup and despite his deep and stark desire to have another one, it was better that he didn't. Too much to still be handled. The cup is considered and, as he talked, set on the cabinet and abandoned by a few steps away, least he get tempted again.

"A pirate captain from the early 1700's. You wanna talk bein' unfamiliar with modern times," he huffs with a wry smirk that didn't stick around long, hands propping lazily, one on his hip, the other sprawling long fingers on the top of his thigh.

"Didn't last but six months before he was anglin' down a path of rage, poor choices, and an inability to understand how the social structure of the two thousands had changed from what he was used to. I'm hopin' that the latter of those might be easier for you than it was for him."

If Raylan felt anything about it, it didn't show. The more important point behind what Raylan was saying was that despite Collins previous almost acted threat to kill him on the table, all his offers so far were still on the table. Anything else would have to come after original offers had been considered.

Collins moved in the fashion of a nod without quite seeming to. His expression remained thoughtful. That was quite the leap in years and Collins could see where a man from an older time like that could go seriously wrong. Considering the fact that the man was a former inmate and a pirate captain, it wasn't hard to see where that path had led.

Unlike a social outcast, Collins knew how to move through a crowd. He knew how to keep his head low. He blended in easily with his nondescript looks and demeanor. But would this society be as easy to disappear into? He thought it wouldn't be that hard, certainly not as hard as it had been for poor Givens's husband. Strange thought that. Collins let it slide so he didn't have to think about it at all.

"My condolences," he said with little affection but with a slight bow of his head to convey the attempt at earnestness. "I can manage ta survive tha people, bull. It's tha not havin' anything ta keep me occupied that you should be worried about." That he was worried about. He could do menial jobs that no one asked many questions about without having to worry about his lack of documented life here. But that would never satisfy a man like him. Sooner or later something would go wrong. He needed something more challenging to do with his time in this new world.

"Mm," is all Raylan says to the condolences, politely accepting them with a faint nod of his head in return, but it wasn't something that he was going to focus on. He'd like to think Collins meant it, but he didn't know enough of the man yet. Coulda done some good with him, Raylan thought, if we'd had some time.

"That is what I'm worried about. Some people get a hobby, find a job that lets them get a little cruel and bloody - slaughter houses are still around, if that's your kinda thing; racin' cars, gamblin', I could go on. And I'm not ignorin' what else you said. What else you might want. But I also know I got a job to do. One that puts me well outta reach for helpin' you find any consistant kinda.. enjoyment." Therein lay the consequences. Raylan caves to his baser needs that had a thin connection to reason, leaves for a job, comes back to have his life blown up because the guy he fucks around with can't help his impulses. Not to mention the ever looming possibility that Raylan will have to shoot him. Or the possibility that Collins gets bored with him and decides to kill him outright instead.

He wasn't blaming Collins. Collins was what he was, just as much as Raylan was what he was.

"I'm sure we can find somethin' but that'll be it's own work, on your part."

Edited 2024-03-19 02:15 (UTC)

"Yer cars are strange," he said with a flat tone but a small smirk. He sighed loudly and glanced back as he suddenly decided to sit. The bed bounced with his weight. To his left was the pile on the ground of armaments and other tools. Raylan ahead of him with the fridge and cabinet to the other side. The statement wasn't meant as anything so much as a facetious comment about nothing and a blatant refusal to address the slaughter house issue. Givens damn well knew he didn't care for slaughtering animals. There was no purpose nor joy in it.

So here they were together again after all this time and Collins had to admit that this was not a conversation he wanted to have but was necessary. He could have done this on his own and kept well clear of Raylan. But what would have been the point of choosing the lawman's world if not to see the man. It may have been a foolish decision made with no other choices of appeal yet it was still what he had come up with as a decision and there had to be a reason even if it was just whimsy.

"I haven't lived without tha hunt since tha war. I know how ta find people, ta get them ta talk, ta procure things on occasion that people don't want ta give up. That's been me life fer a long, long time." He looked up at Givens and gave a faint smile. "I found you. Dumped close by, but not on yer doorstep, you know. This ain't even where you live, ya said, but I still managed."

He almost sighed again, instead took a breath and held it as he gazed at Raylan silently for half a moment. Then, "I know tha call of tha job. I never liked stickin' in one place too much. Travelin' keeps things fresh. I could always still find ya when I wanted..." He said, addressing the issue of whatever it was they could have. He wasn't the settle down type anyway. Maybe there was nothing there and it was pointless, or maybe the bull would cave if there was no predictability, no commitment, just random fun when the opportunity arose.

Collins sitting down let Raylan relax his shoulders some, more of the tension that had been built up slipping away. There was no forgetting what just happened, but it felt like they were further away from an exploding edge. They could get back into the grey of calmer emotions, less starkly black and white like the fight for life always was. The Irishman look, in a word, tired as he talked about himself, like the weight of it was sinking him down a little. Raylan was sympathetic, but didn't pity him. Everyone had their weight to carry.

Four or five decades of life always came with some weight, no matter where you came from, no matter what you did.

"Plenty of wet work to be found. People willin' to pay for things I can't endorse-" But generally, he understood. Passions were what they were, greed was what it was, hunger - Well, they all knew what side of the line Raylan had dedicated himself to. He knew it happened, he couldn't recommend it, but it was still an option for Collins. A hard and dangerous road, but no one could make Collins choices for him.

He ambles forward, close enough to be in Collins reach, a concession of space. A concession of possibility, however fucked up it might be to entertain it. But he couldn't bring himself to really poke and dig now, to try and pry up Collins' pavestones and make the man drag out whatever was underneath them.

"An' killin' me?"

Collins looked up at Givens and there was a moment where his eyes seemed to search for something in the other man. Whether he found it or not was up for debate but eventually he answered.

"It was never really tha reason fer comin' here," he admitted, "but you already deduced that. It could be a fun filled night..." He closed his eyes and tilted his head to one side as if listening to something. "...but it would only be one night. It would only be one song and gone." He opened his eyes and stared directly into Raylan's gaze. "I like yer song, bull. It would be a shame ta silence it anytime soon."

He didn't know if it was the right answer, or even if it was what the lawman was trying to get out of him. But it was what he felt. It was what stayed his hand this time. Maybe it would continue to stay his hand in the future. Or maybe it wouldn't. He could give no better answer than that as he didn't know himself. He only knew that he could try.

He had deduced it but it was important, good, for Collins to vocalize it. For both their sakes. Nothing he'd said up until now had been bullshit - his concerns were valid - and Collins had earned his peace for the transgression of threating him in the first place. They could work with these rules. What Collins would find in his expression was a hesitant softness, an open want, and a hint of amusement in the faint lift of his eyebrows that came with the charmed little pull of his smile.

"Just be happy you've never heard me actually sing," he says lightly, holding out a gun calloused hand to Collins, inviting him back to his feet, and if he rises, Raylan will pull him close, slide a hand up his cheek and pull him into a firm, exploring kiss.

Just because they'd slipped into vulnerability didn't mean that Raylan couldn't keep it hot.

"Wouldn't be opposed," he started to reply but his expression dipped into a furrow-browed frown as Givens held out his hand to Collins. The contract killer looked up at Raylan with a softer expression as he tried to figure out what Raylan's face was doing. There was a surprising amount of honesty written there that Collins wasn't expecting right now but the winning little smile tugged at Collins and gave him an odd feeling. It took him a second to realize that it was hope.

He hesitated out of a lack of understanding what was happening, but Collins did reach out to take the offered hand. He let Raylan guide him to his feet and then was surprised to be pulled in close and caressed. There was no objection, however, when Raylan kissed him and Collins let the lawman in to explore to his heart's content.

The Irishman hummed in satisfaction as he slipped a hand around Raylan's torso and kept him close with a possessive grip in the other man's clothes.

Raylan tasted deep, wrestling their tongues together, as he leans into the embrace, off hand wrapping around Collins' waist in kind. He kisses the Irishman until his lung scream for breathing, breaking it all with a little roll of his head that let him slide his mouth towards Collins ear.

"I think you'll enjoy makin' me sing a totally different tune more." As he spoke, his other hand crept to Collins' waist, pulling up his shirt so he could slide a hand under it, fingers dancing their way towards Collins's front. This, he knew how to do. This was just like breathing, and there wasn't any issues with what had come before this. Raylan knew he was something of a greedy man, that he took what he could get when he could get it; there was no helping or changing that about him, not now.

"And it ain't gonna be just one night," he purrs. "We're both gonna be back for more."

Edited 2024-03-27 18:10 (UTC)

He was busy catching his breath after that deep kiss but those words produced a hearty smile from the Irishman and an airy chuckle that followed shortly. Collins liked the sound of that. He would indeed enjoy making Raylan sing a tune that involved them both on mostly even footing, a duet that satisfied both of their needs and left them both alive for more at a later time. He could get used to that sort of life.

It was worth trying at least. It sounded worth the effort. It sounded like a beautiful song to produce and listen to.

He made a contented sound to indicate what he thought of that and their current situation. He rubbed his free hand up the length of one of Raylan's arms in an idle gesture just meant to appreciate touching the other man.

"I'll make sure not ta disappoint ya, bull. Keep ya comin' back fer more. I do like tha sound of that," he admitted so that Raylan would know it. Know that he wanted it. That he was going to make an honest attempt at this new life.

Raylan loved the way his lovers sounded after getting kissed like that, like air was in short supply and it was their turn at the counter for a lungful. Like they might remember it sometime, when they're alone and lonely. Like he might have left an impression. Which wasn't a question he had to ask in regards to Collins, considering.

He actually believed what Collins said too, trusted in the moment that Collins meant it, even if the weighing of time might change things. It was a nice picture. A nice promise. Time would tell him if it was pie crust promise or not. He wasn't going to ask for his gun back, that could wait until they were spent and done, but he did lean his weight into the Irishman, pushing him back closer to the bed.

"Then let's play that game you were talkin' about. Prove it to me, huh?" He gives a roguish grin and pops the top button of Collins' trousers. "I'll even let you tie me up, slipknots only."

Collins let himself be backed up until the backs of his knees hit the bed but he didn't go down. A little grin lingered around his mouth as he listened to the lawman's proposal. "You'll spoil me," he said with the hint of laughter.

He reached up with his arm and slung it so that it was over the taller man's shoulder, fingers curling into Raylan's hair. His touch was feather-light at first until he slowly tightened till he had a firm hold. He pulled slowly, exposing Raylan's neck with the angle, and his teeth raked along the skin of the lawman carefully. He pressed a deliberate kiss to Raylan's Adam's apple. And then released his hold.

He stepped around Raylan, running a finger along the other man's jaw as he re-positioned, and then gestured towards the bed. "Get comfortable." See, he could act civil when he wanted to play nice.

His fingers only stop their unbuttoning as Collins' fingers as the Irishman fists that grip in his hair, earning a little note of approval as his head is pulled back, as his neck is so sweetly assaulted. He imagined that Collins had been pent up, or maybe that was his own denied need rearing its head. Heartbeat thrumming under Collins' lips, Raylan groans softly as the shorter man steps away and watches him as much as he could without adjusting too far.

"I'd feel comfortable with my bullets back in my gun and it all tucked away somewhere. You know they count bullets, the US Marshals? To account for every shot fired." The statement was ended with the soft clank of his belt against itself as he pulls it off and tosses it to the side before walking around the bed. It didn't take long, he found his clip, sets it in place, checks the chamber and tucks it into the nightstand drawer. Everything else is set off to the side somewhere, pants and boxers shucked in one go, and Raylan ambles back to where he was with his hands wide. Nothing in them that would be unexpected.

He drops back onto the bed and scoots up towards the center, half propped on the headboard with his ankles crossed as he watches Dennis. A name he hadn't been given leave to use yet, but it was on his mind.

Collins didn't reply to Raylan's insistence of securing his weapon, and while there were surely thoughts about it on his mind, he gave little of it away as he simply watched Raylan coolly as one might imagine a domesticated hawk would eye its handler. Careful and keen but with no attachment. Collins was no hawk but he was clever and experienced enough to know how to hide his inner workings.

Once Raylan returned to their game the tension did seem to ease back out of the Irishman though he hardly gave the marshal's hands a glance. Was it trust or was it simple ego? A desire for any reason to go back to fighting or a lack of care at all for his own well-being? It could have been all of those things, or none of them at all. Instead of giving anything away, Collins merely went straight to work. He tied Raylan's wrists in the way promised--an easy slip knot that would allow the marshal to escape just about any time he wanted so long as he remained calm and in control of himself but gave them the illusion of Collins being in control.

It wasn't perfect but it would do. Collins would let it be enough. That was what compromise was all about, wasn't it? He could manage that. He could still have what he wanted...

And what he wanted was before him now. He stopped for a moment, head cocked to one side, as he admired the form before him. A song was on his lips, silently sung as he watched the lawman in front of him. When he surged forward, the song was still on his lips as he kissed the marshal passionately, possessively.

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

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