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

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

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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They're all learning how to... best put up with each other, make this arrangement work. Doc isn't a stranger to complications. Complications have been a running theme throughout his life. He can't help if Wynonna or Winona are used to having all of what they want. He can only work on what he wants, how many pieces he's willing to cut himself into and give out (always too many - somehow all the little slices add up to over 100%, and yet he is relentless and tireless about trying to keep the peace and nudge everyone in his circle a little bit closer to happiness), and how much shit he's willing to put up with before he calls it quits. Thankfully, he's had some very good life lessons on patience. He used to chase down what he wanted a little too hard. It's taken him a long time to learn to let 'em come instead.

"Well I wouldn't argue that we mind giving them back from time to time, but I do enjoy having them around for the most part," Doc muses with a little smile. He really is too old to be running after those pint-sized danger-seeking missiles. They scare the shit out of him in expected and unexpected ways, but he just hates hearing one of his names being screamed out at the top of those little lungs after one or both of the girls have been gone out of his sight just that little bit too long. It isn't for lack of love or wilful neglect that Doc isn't watching them like a hawk 24/7, he just thinks Wynonna is overprotective and maybe he's overcompensating the other way a little bit, giving a little independence far too early, but if Raylan wasn't around to mind them they'll probably have both perished in a ditch out back somewhere a long time ago.

"Wynonna doesn't much like the idea of me teaching Alice to shoot." Doc hardly ever brings up anything between them to Raylan. It's not really fair on Raylan, and Doc isn't looking to be vindicated here - Wyatt would have been more than happy for Doc to put a gun in his children's hands back in the day, so he honestly doesn't see the fuss - but he does value Raylan's opinion. One does not get through this wretched life without learning how to shoot, family curses ended or otherwise. This is their way, the life they have always known.

"I don't know, how to be a-- anything, if I couldn't shoot. I would like to at least leave this behind." Maybe it's not the right kind of thing to leave behind, but he doesn't have anything else to impart.

The ladies liked stripping off pieces of them, some thin slices, some not so thin but for all of what both Raylan and Doc were used to, the up side to this was that they didn't have to suffer those wounds alone. Neither of them had to really talk about how their ex's affected them; it only took a retelling for the other to parse out how deep it went. But Henry had more patience for taking their bullshit now than Raylan did. The Marshal had given them their time to get to grips with it.

Smirking into his rapidly emptying plate, Raylan kept to himself how fucking cute Henry was with the girls. There was a warmth and lightness to the man's face that Raylan had rarely seen outside the glances and gazes he got behind closed doors, sometimes even when Henry thought he didn't notice. No, it was easy to see that those little girls had wrapped themselves securely around the gunslinger's heart. Raylan wouldn't have it any other way - the girls were going to be a little wild underneath their mother's attempts to 'manners' the cheekiest bits of their fathers out of them but he'd knew and had seen what Winona's manners and stiffness turned out.

There was no taking the country out of their girls.

His eyebrows lifted a little at the tell, head bobbing to one side before smiling crookedly. "Considerin' how many nasty things that go bump in the night, I'm honestly surprised to hear that. I mean, I know her daddy was kinda an asshole about teachin' her and the reasons why but.. Can't have the daughter of gunslingers not carryin' on that legacy. I'm sure the sting of what she was saddled with will ease in a few decades."

Raylan paused, watching his partner with a serious, however soft, expression. It was almost a little sad that Doc hadn't been able to build anything over the past hundred fifty years but they were scraping together what they could to hand over in what years were left.

"You could always fall back on dentistry," he said, lips curling. "You're leavin' behind more than your guns and a hat. Hell, look how far the Earp line's gotten, and now you got a Holliday? That little girl loves you. Nothing better you could leave in the world behind ya.

.. Though we might have to consider paddin' the corners again if either of them keep up this clumsy phase they're in."

Anyone can understand that Wynonna wants the curse ending with her. Doc isn't disputing that. Nor is anyone saying that Wynonna won't be around to protect anyone. This is just a life skill, that's all. One that had been vital to his own survival, and he is certain would be vital to others', too. Being prepared never hurt, and Doc doesn't see it as any different from anyone else offering to teach Alice to drive, when she's old enough, or passing down grandma's recipes.

Of course, not everyone sees it that way. Wynonna is being idealistic about the world Alice is going to grow up in. Maybe he's being a little... old-fashioned, to put it kindly? That has been said many times, about all manner of things, that it's starting to lose its meaning on him.

"I'd like to think she should know sommin' about shooting straight just so she can look after herself if I'm not around anymore. Not sure how dentistry is goin' to help much, especially given how far we've come, but I'll take that under advisement..." Doc muses with a small smile. He knows Raylan is teasing.

"Lord are they accident-prone." He's lagging behind on polishing off his own plate, but he's taking his time this morning, and Raylan is keeping his mouth busy - with conversation, of course. "They've got hands, and feet, and eyes," he comments exasperatedly. They seem fully capable of using these appendages and senses, and yet. "One of these days, one or both of 'em are going to crack their heads open and we'll get the blame for it." A blame he would just silently accept as being his fault, the way he takes the blame for everything else without complaint, so long as the girls come out of it fine and don't get in trouble themselves.

"Maybe this house isn't so kid-friendly," he concedes, glancing around a bit, and slightly over his shoulder. No doubt, part of the reason the girls like it here, apart from spending time with the old geezers, is how said old geezers just let them run a little wild - within reason. Childproofing the place completely might take some fun - and important life lessons - out of it.

There was a lot to be said for 'old-fashioned'. Those decrying it for something more Modern, something Kinder, didn't really understand the way of the world when things were hard. They were wrapped in coddle cloth of entitlements that didn't often survive their 'modern' when it was thrown out into the real, raw world. Old-fashioned very often kept people safer and better off in a situation.

"You remember the time that Alice came over with that fat ol' bruise on her little head that went all goose egg. Wynonna trying to cover it with that silly lookin' cat hear hat." He refused to call it a pussy hat, especially when one of the girls were wearing it. Either way, he snorted softly as he said it, leaning back in his chair with his cup of coffee ready to join the emptiness of his place. Both their exes liked sliding blame onto them, but Raylan would only allow it to go so far before speaking up in Henry's defense. He only spoke up on his own when Winona pushed the closed mouth man into saying something - and then it all came out.

"Nah, Alice'll be alright. Her mama doesn't need to know everything, but once they get a little older, that'll be easier. Right now, I think they got a few more years of independence to get through. Arlo was putting a gun in my hand at 8/9 years old, but as long as you're not askin' her to practice on rabbits.." Raylan shrugged a little. "Between you and me, more people in this country need basic gun safety classes - our girls are gonna be well ahead of that. Montana ain't Kentucky but.. They're not that far apart in ideology." Their fathers wouldn't always be there to protect them.

"A few sharp corners aside, both the Wynonia's know this is the safest place in the world for those girls. Doubly so since the motel room I got in town is my work registered address. There's something to say for the security that a small town grants 'em. Wouldn't be surprised if one of them eventually asks to hide out here for one reason or another."

Henry was right; the girls had a freedom here that they wouldn't find anywhere else, but Raylan wanted his kids dirty and exploring, out there testing themselves and learning about the practical world. God only knew when it would serve them. Raylan's upbringing had served him fantastically well; he could only hope to pass that on.

"She would have made Alice wear that abomination even if her head was perfectly fine and level on her shoulders," Doc bemoans. The only reason he didn't say nothing was because Alice didn't seem to mind the hat. He has never said nothing about Wynonna's penchant for waist-baring mesh and fishnets either, but Lord is it unladylike.

He should probably take a page out of Raylan's book. Say something when it needs to be said, instead of leaving bad sentiments to fester. He doesn't much like the way Winona talks to Raylan either, even if he tries not to interfere in their affairs. The ladies likely find his politeness and willingness to let them have their way easy to take advantage of. But even Doc Holliday's patience has its limits.

"I don't think Arlo is a good example of anything." While he hates to speak ill of anyone and would rather not say very much at all, he would make exception for a select group of individuals. Nevertheless, Doc is quite enjoying seeing Raylan with the girls doing very unArlo things. The Arlo way is easy, but life is hard on everybody. Nobody gets a free pass on how badly they treat others.

"This door is always gonna be open for 'em," he agrees after he finally catches up and finishes his food. The grumpy old men will definitely try to be around, even if they can't promise an eternity of this. They'll still chip in when it is needed, help each other out, be a shoulder to cry on and be that bedrock of support if any of the girls need it. Even the exes, vicious as they can be.

"Well. Almost always," Henry corrects himself with a tilt of his head and a twitch of a smile, tongue swiping over his upper lip. They probably shouldn't be all that interested in what unbiblical activities the boys are doing behind closed doors.

"Don't think we wanna be explaining this to them just yet." Not because he can't admit some truths about what they're doing together but children can be cruel to each other sometimes. There's no need to get a headstart on making things complicated for the girls. They've got enough going on as it is.

Raylan chuckled under his breath. They never talked politics; Raylan hadn't even asked if Henry had any interested in voting and he could guess at Wynonna's, but as volatile as that had ever been, current atmosphere aside, that kind of nonsense didn't belong here. This place was for more important, basic to life and happiness and well rounded individuals, things. It was Raylan's goal in life to be as different from Arlo in fatherhood as possible.

That meant a lot of dirt, a few critters and a few bruises.

If either of the Women came up to check it out for more than five minutes where they nitpicked anything they could see, they'd realize that. But then they'd find a way to stain the air somehow. He didn't mind them coming over, if they needed to; he was just against them lingering too long in his secure space. It wasn't that he was concerned about the stability of what he had with Henry, only that he didn't want to give Them the chance to dig and pick.

Head bobbing in concession, Raylan collected Henry's plate with a warm smile to the man and ran a hand across his shoulders as he stepped away back towards the sink.

"I think we'll hit a Few Important Questions once they get a little older. Right now, we're just their daddies and since we hang the sun and moon, I think that's good enough." It was everything, according to his tone. There was always something more heartfelt about his tone when he talked about the girls.

"And honestly, I mean. They're growin' up in a different world. One that's already.. well, more inclined than the one you remember. More inclined than the one I remember, really." Dishes washed and set to the side, Raylan leaned against the counter and started drying his hands.

"We gonna argue about who's driving to get them today?" The girls loved both their cars and the way they drove, but it was more amusing to hear the men argue about who drove more to their liking. Raylan was sure it was Henry's car, but that's what you get when you drive a sexy little red number like that.

You know, Doc can't remember ever having that birds and the bees talk. Not that he's only here to have sex with Raylan, but it's bound to come up at some stage when anything else about their relationship comes up. It wasn't as big of a thing in his day. Children were just smaller, weaker adults until they grew into a more useful size. Nobody had really tried to preserve what preposterous notions of innocence that John Henry would have had at three or four feet tall - certainly not like the way they're trying to with their girls.

He's not going to shirk responsibility from that, but hopefully they're a few years away yet. It's far too soon for either Raylan or Doc to be issuing thinly-veiled death threats at uncouth little boys trying to take their girls out until it's inappropriately late in the evening.

"I think it's a better world for them. They will have more opportunities." There was only so much Alice could have gotten out of life had she been born in the Frontier. What nostalgia Doc or anyone else might have about the 'good old days' is just seeing that old world through rose-tinted lenses. Life was hard, and perilous, and indiscriminately merciless. He would gladly trade some of that old world charm for what they can give their girls today. Hopefully a good and fulfilling, long life they can enjoy with whomever they see fit.

"If I recall correctly, you were trying to drink us dry last night. I thought I should drive, give you a couple more hours of rest." They're probably drinking less than when they're with the ladies, which is saying something, but while they don't make a habit out of commenting on each other's excesses - some things are still a man's private business to deal with - the occasional little flareup of concern does bleed through from carrying passed out cowboys into bed and tucking them in and extra servings of eggs and coffee in the morning into words from time to time.

"I promise to go no faster than the number in the circular road sign," Doc adds dryly. Look, he taught himself to drive. Nobody explained that the signage wasn't the slowest he's supposed to go. Although why you would harness the power of three hundred horses into a small little engine and then force it to go slow is beyond him.

They were a handful of years away from needing to clean their guns on the porch in a veiled threat that ever young man instinctively recognized and thank god for that. It would pass faster for them than the girls, but that would only serve to harden their resolve to protect them in the last bastions of their innocence before some bit of the harshness of life broke into their little farm/homestead paradise.

"They will," Raylan agreed as he finished the washing up of the dishes, drying his hands with a cant of his hips towards the counter, eyebrows lifted in an amused look as Henry tried to boot Raylan off the passenger manifest so strongly. The girl's future would be there later, so Raylan tried to focus on the now.

"Me thinks you doth protest too much. You worried about how much I'm drinking?" It was sweet to say the least. Henry had always paid attention to the things that everyone else overlooked, marking his casual drinking down to just a part of his ~aesthetic~, something to be accepted and unquestioned. "I'll stay here if you really want me too," he promised with no condescension. "There's always somethin' to clean up and tuck away before the girls visit."

But Raylan smirked at Henry's promise to obey the speed limit. "You can't get pulled over with a Marshal's daughter in your backseat."

Between Raylan and Doc it would be stiff competition to see which one of them could get the most number of self-styled 'bad boys' shitting their pants running for the hills - and without so much as even uttering one word. No doubt the girls would get sick of the old men and their protective streaks, but one day he hopes they'll come to understand just how much they mean to them, and forgive their bark being much louder than their bite.

"I never said anything about your drinking," the old cowboy points out, turning his hands up towards the ceiling and giving Raylan one of those 'I 'unno what you're talking about, son' shrugs. He hasn't yet had to hold up Raylan's hair and rub his back while he's bent over the toilet throwing his supper up, but he would be surprised if he had to one day. They're too seasoned drinkers to put each other through that kind of mess.

Doc is rather appreciative of Raylan backing down from what could have been an ugly fight this time around, nonetheless. He honestly wouldn't have minded the Marshal riding shotgun, but sticking around to childproof the place a little more is probably a better use of their time than them both bickering in the front seats.

"You can drop 'em off while I get started on cleanup," he offers as a sort of compromise. Raylan doesn't drink much when the baby girls are around and Doc... well. He tries to cut back as much as Raylan does, to varying degrees of success. The tiny double trouble tag team is almost as hard work as Wynonna and Winona, and he can't help winding down the night with a drink in hand and a cigarillo between his fingers to reward himself for a hard fought day won.

"You're probably more popular with them anyway, playing that shark song that drives me up the wall." He would not claim to be a man of refined taste, but the shark 'song' does not music make, and it's banned from defiling that sacred space inside Charlene.

A long standing tradition shouldn't be ignored, not after all the rules they'd bent, social and mortal alike. Raylan was looking forwards to it; to sort the riffraff out from those budding young souls that might be worth taking the chance on letting them have a little room to move. He was also very glad that that was many many years away. Raylan wasn't done enjoying this young, innocent phase, when they were too busy getting dirty and learning what not to touch and where not to go.

"Mmhmm." He'd just ignore Henry just talking about him drinking the place dry. It was true that Henry hadn't ever had to help Raylan out of a drunk spot, but that was because Raylan was a full grown man who knew how to handle his liquor, as they both did.

Washtowel tossed to the side, Raylan leaned on the counter, one hand propping on his hip as he bobbed his head in agreement. "Sounds good. And I only play that song to distract them from leavin' here. We only play it a couple of times." The things he did for their children. The things they both did for them.

"When do you plan on leavin'?" If Henry was planning on sprinting out right now, he wanted a kiss, goddamnit.

There was no shame in that now, in wanting to show his affection, his care in such a way. There was no one here to judge them or chastise them or tell them that men didn't kiss men goodbye, even if that's what they did with the ladies.

"A couple of times is a couple of times too many," he protests gruffly. Why can't the girls like proper music? Why can't Raylan introduce the girls to some proper music? Henry still has years to go to catch up with the modern catalogue of offerings and sift through the hot garbage from the hidden gems. Raylan surely has no such excuse.

"Soon. Fifteen minutes. Just a quick round, tidying up." He won't keep the girls waiting. It's not that he doesn't trust Raylan to childproof the place, but four eyes are better than two - he always misses an empty bottle or a box of 9mms that Raylan picks up on, and sometimes vice versa - and that'll leave him with a few minutes to freshen up in the bathroom and get dressed. It won't be nearly long enough for a kiss to become something more... involved, but they can at least take their time with it.

"There anything you need me dropping off or picking up along the way?" he asks as he moves to get up and wipe the table down. This whole place is going to be in a mess once the girls start charging in and running on through like two hurricanes in a little shoebox. Right now it's almost looking as pristine as it's going to be for the next couple of days.

Oh, he had and would continue to try to get them into something, anything with more sense than that damned song, but some music was magic for taming the wild beasts that were toddlers. Along with a bribe or two to help ease his way to control over his radio again. Those he didn't tell anyone about, if he could help it. It was going to bite him in the ass eventually, especially as the girl's vocabulary expanded out.

Nodding a little with a half cocked smile that he couldn't quite get rid of, Raylan shook his head at the question.

"Nah, I made sure I brought home some supplies last night-" The whiskey, the weird 'healthy' rice crisp things that Willa liked and Alice still hadn't decided on, and some fresh fruit. The Cheerios stayed stocked though, Raylan liked it for late night snacks or a hasty breakfast. "But you might stop for a bottle of juice, that's the only thing I forgot."

He glanced towards the living room. "I'll pull out their toys while you're gone and make sure the barn is locked up. But I'm lockin' the noise makers in the barn first. I give 'em baby shark, that's about all they're gonna get without me losing my mind," he said with a laugh.

"Sure." A bottle of juice will end up turning into a half dozen things because the girls got carried away and Doc indulges them too much (he might draw the line at Baby Shark but there's a lot of lines he doesn't draw which he probably ought to be drawing before they get as far as the earworm hellspawn of a 'song'), but he won't let them dally in the store for too long. He knows Raylan is eager to see them and he'll want to whisk them away back to the house before it starts to get dark, which seems to be creeping upon them earlier and earlier with each passing day.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do now," he says by way of farewell once twelve of his fifteen minutes are up and he's done everything he's needed to, right up to slipping into his coat and donning on his hat. He's not yet come home to a disaster but that's happened before with Wynonna, and he's not going to take any chances with his errant Marshal.

The last three minutes he will spend on the porch with his last cigarillo for what was likely going to be the rest of the day, looking out over the parked cars and the stretch of flat land around them, a smattering of interspersed trees casting long shadows towards and over the house, and then he'll be off.

That was the way it ought be and as cheesy as it was, it really did warm Raylan's heart how equally they'd accepted the girls. They weren't related, but they were still half growing up as sisters and while it wasn't a yard of little Givens, it was more than he could have ever expected. That being said, yes - Raylan got antsy when he thought they'd been gone too long, hand too eager to twitch towards his phone to make sure they were okay.

He trusted Henry. He didn't trust everyone else out there.

"And leave you out of all the fun?" Raylan teased in return. There was an impulse to go over, to touch him, to wish him a softer kind of farewell, but their ease and comfort in that waxed and waned on any given day. Raylan knew it didn't mean anything, and he couldn't help marking it regardless.

"Drive safe," he called before the door shut. He trusted Henry. He would still worry in a way he couldn't help until him and the girls were home and safe. Back behind the walls and security of their guns.

The girls were quite a handful, and while Doc's never glad to see them go, he isn't complaining about the fact that he has Wynonna to share the load with. She doesn't mind so much when Alice turns up with a couple of bruises and a scratch she's particularly proud of - actually she gets irritable when Alice shows up looking more immaculate than when she left - but it's a different story with Winona. Doc takes the tirade in his stride, letting her blow off all that steam with his head inclined staving off the itch for a smoke, but he can't help but feel like there's a lot of pent up thoughts and feelings that she should really be talking to Raylan about - in a calm and controlled manner - instead of taking it out on whichever cowboy happens to be dropping little Willa off.

He's taken a lot worse from Wynonna, but it's a relief to get back, in a way that a man who has always been on the go can't honestly say he's intimately familiar with. The car rumbles to a quiet stop in front of the house, intrusive headlights that would have flooded through the glass windows having been cut off further up the gravelled-over driveway. That cigarillo he's been craving is in his mouth before he even ascends up those three little steps onto the porch. He doesn't want Raylan coming out the house and finding him a tired and defeated heap slumped in the chair, having been chewed out and screeched at by one of the bittersweet loves of his life, so he opts to stay leaning against the wooden pillar, feet crossed at the ankles, a thin wispy trail of smoke slithering from the silhouette of hat and hip-holstered revolver and boots up towards the stars.

Ain't nothing in this world that makes anyone feel old and weary like a venomous bite from a lover scorned. Lord knows he has invoked those furies, time and time again. Maybe, in some strange way, shaking off the restlessness and settling down in a place like this would be the least 'old and weary' thing to do.

There were a lot of perks to having the Ladies to trade off duties with. Not that Raylan was complaining about the time he got to spend with the girls but even all the chaos of a gunfight could not stand up to the stamina of Alice and Willa. It might also not be a complete lie to say that Raylan was possibly avoiding seeing his ex-wife. It was clearly where she got her stamina from - He'd gotten a call from her not too long ago and she'd given him an earful and then some.

So when he sees the wash of headlights and the familiar rumble of the engine, he gives Henry a few minutes to reacclimate to the nightsky without the screams of little girls in his ears before walking out a glass of whiskey and one of his own to match. Strolling up to stand next to him, Raylan holds up one of them and considers the stars.

"Figured you might need this. Thanks for drivin' them back in, the case that caught me on your way out was a nasty one." Not that he had any jobs that ended in sunshine and rainbows. "Not too many tears I hope? I'm sure the girls were dry eyed," he teases.

"Oh, the girls were fine," he reassures with a smile that hides all manner of sins cast over his shoulder as he reaches over to pluck the proffered glass of whiskey from Raylan's grasp, holding it down against the railing while he finishes his smoke. Doc might have been the one in tears if he had been any less thick-skinned, but thankfully he's had years of practice trying to pass trials by fire.

"This place out here's the real world we're livin' in. No one comes outta life without a few scrapes and bruises," Doc drawls. He would have told Winona as much if she'd half a mind to listen, but she just had a gatling gun to unload and he didn't bother shooting back.

"Missing them already?" he asks with a raised eyebrow and a playful little lopsided smile as he takes his last puff and flicks what's left of his cigarillo onto the wooden floorboard, swivelling the ball of his foot over it to put it out. The time is fast approaching where they won't try to crawl in between their dads when heaven's floodgates open up and it's thundering a hell of a storm outside, and when said old men can't pick them up anymore.

"You wouldn't've wanted them around while you're working a case, anyway. Some of those demons follow you all the way home." Wyatt got the same way when he was embroiled in some case he was hellbent on resolving, and it's sometimes the same with Wynonna. Doc's moved on long ago, not wanting to be stuck in a literal purgatory of chasing proverbial and literal demons around the same way the Earps seem to define their purpose in life. But he has the patience of a saint, especially when it comes to dealing with Marshals who are wont to go off on their benders.

Raylan is sure that Henry would say that even if the girls had tried to talk him into robbing a bank. There was some very sweet bias there that was hard to miss here on their little homestead but it hadn't ever been for the faint of heart. He couldn't have chosen a better person to tackle it with.

"Winona gave you an earful, huh?" He huffs a breath. "Don't worry, she called to file her complaints. It's her mother's fault really. Nothin' but a rose colored glass bell that she raised her daughters in. Pray you never meet Gloria."

He looks over sidelong, lips curled up in an amused smirk. "They've gotta go back to their mothers so that I can miss 'em," he admits. "Give me a few more hours of silence and then ask me that again. But you're right about the rest. Besides, it'd be terribly unfair to leave you here to hold our side of the pillow and fort wars all on your own against such vicious numbers."

When the girls got going, normally after a few demands to ride around on one set of shoulders or a back to ride like 'the horsies', it was more taxing than 4 day long stakeouts or those brief, violent gunfights.

"Gotta admit, at least my demons are just assholes in fancy cars who can't handle the cold. More paperwork but at least they're a little borin'."

Hey if he'd robbed a bank, Raylan would have surely heard about it. "No, no. She was alright," Doc lies easily, cracking a small smile at Raylan. He's not sure he can handle being double-teamed by Winona and-- Gloria? Was it? But he'd hate to give off the impression that he can't hold down the fort on his own. He can handle being poked full of holes at and women who try to push his buttons all the time from all directions. Most of the time he's able to take things in his stride. Unless they're Wynonna and know exactly where to get him and how hard to twist the knife.

"Bright side is, you wouldn't have to worry about them so." Which would not stop either of the cowboys from worrying about those little girls, even when the day eventually comes when they're not so little anymore. But between their mothers and their fathers, they'll be able to hold their own just fine. They'd give anyone hell before Raylan or Doc even showed up to finish the job, cauterise those wounds and clean up the mess neat and clean like they always do.

"Well if you wanna swap one day, be my guest." Although Doc's not much good with paperwork. Raylan don't make 'boring' sound like it's enough action for him although frankly, Doc prefers things the way they are. There's enough going on in their lives that they don't really need to be worrying about real demons on top of the proverbial ones.

"This asshole gon' be an all nighter or will you be crawling into bed sometime?" Doc will likely be passed out sooner than he would admit - the girls wore him down, the ladies gave him shit, it was an early morning with a pretty long drive to stretch out the day even longer, and now he's chugging whiskey like the bottle's long past its shelf life, so he's not long for the land of the wide-awake-and-living. It's just a shame they can't really properly sit down and reward each other for a job done proper on the first night, but they're long past that honeymoon phase and well into the grumpy old men stage, and they're maybe a little too at ease around each other that they leave each other comfortable hanging all the time because they're already thinking what the other didn't bother to finish saying, while everyone else is on a different wavelength and struggling to keep up.

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

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JUST TWO OLD MEN BEING OLD MEN AT EACH OTHER I LOVE IT

Sorry just got back from my trip, taking old man to the next level

Doc lives on old man next level, i say from the ass end of my own trip xD

we are all old men tbh

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