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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[tinstar]

Raylan smiled at the cute little joke. Yeah sure. "Got an aspirin or a quarter between your knees and everything, I imagine."

He could feel the restless energy rolling off Tim and took a deeper breath as he made his way around to Raylan's side of the divider, eyes coming up to meet him expectantly. The book was closed, cover turned right side up to face him, reading in large stylised block font 'The Friends of Eddie Coyle' by George V. Higgins.

"I know Art told you you gotta stay, but I promise I can intake paperwork without supervision. In case you got anythin' you'd rather be doin' than workin' on a back cavity." He wasn't ushering Tim away, that would take more energy than it was worth but maybe if he just.. opening the door of opportunity, Tim would be inclined to take it.

[boltactions]

The smile grew on Tim's face, and he rolled his eyes.

"Don't insult me like that, Raylan. You and I both know you're shit without supervision, and the last thing I need is Art up my ass because I left you alone."

But Raylan was right in picking up that Tim was getting restless. He could sit still for hours and keep an eye on a target, but office duty is something else.

"Wanna order some food or something?"

[tinstar]

It was worth a shot. He huffed a breath, smile breaking as his book bearing hand broke so he could glance down and put his bookmark between the pages before he tossed it onto the table, propping his chin into his fingers. A restless Tim meant he wasn't going to get any peace and quiet. Not while the Ranger had things to throw at his face.

"He ain't gotta find out," Raylan drawled in his own defense, hand falling out to gesture at nothing in particular. Still, even as he said it, he knew Tim wasn't going anywhere no matter his protests. Stubborn delightful asshole that he was.

"I could eat," he agreed with a lift of his eyebrows and a slight nod. "I've been thinkin' about that chicken you got for that one guy, took up two of our guys in the locker room? What was his name? Calvin Wallace or somethin' like that. Think they're open? If not," he continued with a wave of his hand before it fell to splay on his knee. "I'm good for just about any place that serves a decent cheeseburger."

[boltactions]

"There's always a place open to get good chicken."

God Bless the south and their damn good food.

Tim finally moved away from Raylan's desk, going back over to his own. In the drawer was a decent collection of take out menus, and if they didn't like what they found, then Tim had it on good authority that just about ever desk in here had a similar stash.

The urge to turn one into a paper airplane and fly it at Raylan was strong. Instead, Tim just started looking through them.

"Let's see. Chicken and cheeseburgers."

[tinstar]

Fried Chicken - Raylan's weakness. "Know the right way to my stomach," he commented as he got up from his desk to follow, chin lifting as though that really gave him a better look at the flyers in Tim's hands.

If Raylan's desk had them, he'd overlooked them under a mass of pens and abandoned post-it notes. More likely than not, considering how little attention Raylan ever paid to it.

"If we get the chicken, I'll pay," he offered with a gesture at the menus. "Maybe I'll even not ask about the types of dinners you get up too when you're not stuck here at work with me." You know, the ones 50 miles out of town. The one he'd never spoken about before but god was he curious.