tinstar | Text Overflow: It's just a flesh wound

You could say we're.. on good terms. [Considering.

The weight of what he still hadn't admitted weighed on him and with a deep breath, Raylan took to lean against the counter and got it over with.]

She's probably wanting to see if I want to say good morning to Willa.. [Raylan looked over at Malcolm.] Not that a 6 month old is much of a conversationalist..

Is that her... [He actually looked at Raylan.] She's your baby. ...Why did I think you've been divorced for more than a year or so? [So much had gone on in that story, perhaps.]

Because it's been more like four or five. [He admitted, arm folding over his chest.]

The realtor she left me for, Gary, ended up catching a bullet in a bad way. [He took no joy in the fact.] We didn't start up for near a year after that. Didn't last long either.. not after Winoa was almost shot at the end of her pregnancy...

She told me she knew it wasn't my fault but.. [With his accent, it might have sounded a bit rambly, but he was working towards his point.].. We moved her down to Miami. Good work for a Courthouse for someone with her skills. Safer too, by a mile..

So.... wait. The realtor is dead?

[He took the eggs off the heat and busied his hands scooping 80% of it onto Raylan's plate and the rest onto his own. He hesitated before looking at Raylan.]

And she lives in Miami?

[He was trying to wrap his head around this and how it fit into what he already knew.]

So when this Boyd stuff is all over and you live in the same place again... what if she wants to get back together?

[Being second choice was better than no choice at all, he supposed. Especially for someone like him. It was still a paradigm shift from what he thought was going on....]

They thought it was me for a hot minute but my money was on the mafia. Gary got into some bad stuff that came back to haunt him, I think.

[The toast popped and Raylan went to collect it with a few fingers to bring back and drop onto his plate before refilling their coffee and walking it over to the table, sitting down himself. His face was calm and unreadable, but not hard or closed.]

Woman leaves you twice for the same thing, third time isn't gonna change anything.

[Malcolm wasn't sure that was an answer, but he didn't push it. Whatever his heart was saying, did he really have any claim to Raylan? Was it really his business that Raylan was almost definitely still in love with his ex-wife? His heart felt like 'yes' on both counts but his brain told it to shush.

He set a plate of eggs and fork in front of Raylan and then brought his own over, gratefully pulling his refilled coffee towards him.]

You can call your baby. It's okay. [He picked up his fork.] What does she look like?

Video call. No bandwidth out here for it. I take those calls in Lexington. [Raylan took a stab full of eggs but ended up just poking around them as his eyes found Malcolm's face.]

She's cute. I would say the cutest, but.. we both know how biased fathers can be. [It was almost self-deprecating and it was clear Raylan was still struggling with the feeling of 'father' to a child he'd only seen in person a few times. But he gave half a smile with it before he looked back down to his plate.

He couldn't help but wonder how much chance he had of Malcolm staying, the more he peeled back. A kid and an ex-wife was a lotta baggage, baggage that couldn't just be stuck up in the shelves of their minds.]

Probably should have told you sooner. I didn't think it was gonna be important.

[Malcolm surprised him. He surprised himself, too.]

[Raylan's layers just made a more complete picture. Malcolm liked that picture, even if he wasn't completely sure if he'd be part of it. Malcolm didn't intend to be the one walking away though.

Raylan's comment about fathers made him smile. It was clear that part of his life meant a lot to him, even if it wasn't conventional.

He considered Raylan's face about why he didn't tell him already. He shook his head.]

You don't... owe me information. You told me when you felt comfortable. [He kept his eyes on Raylan's face and saw something there.] ....It doesn't change how I feel.

[It doesn't change how I feel.

Raylan looked up again at those words, holding Malcolm's gaze for a long moment before he nodded softly, a bit of relief in the back of his head.]

I know most daddies are burstin' with pride, ready to talk everyone's ears off about her first sound or fever or the number of toes they've got.. Alls I got is one picture on my phone, and the people who know.. know. [He wasn't one of those kind of fathers, and he felt a little... broken for it. It was what it was. He was away and didn't get to get that bond and connection with the small being he'd helped make.

Raylan finally took that bite of eggs, humming a soft note of approval.]

And you're right. I don't owe you information but.. [He looked back over.] They're gonna be a part of my life forever. It's only right you know sooner. Let you make.. informed decisions and the like. [Excuse him while he busies his mouth with something other than his left foot.]

[Informed decisions. Some of the uncertainty left his face.]

Relationships between parents and children are... [He huffed a laugh.] Complicated. You can have one that's unconventional in every way that turns out great and you can have one that's conventionally perfect and turns out.... horribly. Just... make the connection in the best way you can. That's all you can do.

[Raylan took another bite of the eggs before grabbing up one of his pieces of toast.]

That's my plan.. for however well I actually do it. [Willa wasn't going to have to suffer the bullshit he did when he was little. Raylan would damned sure do better than that.]

The eggs are good.

Thanks. I learned from a cook that worked for my family when I was a kid. My mother was horrified by some of the interests I took, but I wanted to know... everything. I only learned a couple of things from her. She quit after my father was arrested.

[He ate a couple small bites of egg.]

I think you'll be good at it. Making the connection. You do that naturally with people.

I don't blame her. The cook, not your mother, [He clarified with a curl of his smile, tucking the rest of his toast slice away, before taking a swig of his coffee, leaning back in his chair.]

Only the ones that don't have to deal with me all of the time, and most people aren't exactly happy to see me. Being a Marshal, I rarely bring good news. [And was very much sometimes a pain in their respective asses. Raylan cleared the rest of his plate.]

But it'd be weird if they all liked me.

[Malcolm shook his head, smiling fondly.]

Your coworkers respect you - I think you know that - but they also like you a lot. I can tell.

Tim does. Rachel tolerates me. Art's alright, I guess. [He couldn't help the devilish curl of his smile as he watched Malcolm.]

I'd rather focus on the day to day. [He'd rather focus on Malcolm. Raylan tapped the meat of his palm on the table a couple of times, internally debating before pushing to his feet and heading towards the sink with his plates.]

I supposed we've lingered long enough.. Leave the dishes, I'll do them when we get back.

[He nodded, eating one more bite of eggs, about a third of what he had still left on his plate, then pushed to his feet.] I'll get dressed. [He headed upstairs.

Casual, casual... but not too casual. He didn't want to be too casual confronting criminals in their hideout or lair or whatever this was. He ended up choosing another pair of crisp black jeans, with a button down shirt and a dark red tie. Then he pulled a navy v-neck sweater over it to dial it back down a bit. He glanced around as he arrived back at the bottom of the stairs. His grey sweater from the previous day was still slung over a chair. He had to remember to grab that at some point, but not right then.]

You could--

[But Malcolm was already up and moving so Raylan didn't bother continuing. Instead, he followed Malcolm upstairs with an amused look and got dressed himself. It was amazing what a belt, a long sleeve gray, collarless shirt with darker plaid overshirt and his watch could do to pull Raylan into a decent looking person and not a sex bun walking around the house.

Collecting his gun, badge and phone, Raylan went downstairs and got his hat, dialing Bob up.]

Yeah, sorry about last night. Something came up... Uh huh. Yeah, about to head out now.. Twenty minutes? See ya then.

[Raylan looked over at Malcolm.]

A tie? You know this isn't a case right? [He just had to make sure.] We're both technically off.

[He laughed.]

I know we're pretty much confronting criminals for fun, but confronting criminals is technically work...

[He glanced down at his effort at dressing appropriately, though.] Is it all wrong?

For fun? [Raylan scoffed and clicked as he adjusted his hat, looking back at Malcolm from under his brim with a hint of amusement in his face.] What makes you think that?

[No, Malcolm was completely and totally right. Raylan was happy to help because it meant he got to be an asshole. To an extent.]

It's definitely you. C'mon.

[Raylan turned towards the door and headed towards the car, spinning the keys on his finger as he went.]

Is...is that a good thing or a bad thing? [Asked as he followed him outside, but with a grin.] How are they going to react to you showing up there? They all know who you are, I assume.

It's a thing, [He admitted over his shoulder with a curl and lift of his features as he rounded the front of the car and slid himself into the front seat.]

They're not gonna be happy to see me, but they'll put on a good show. Like I said, [he continued as he threw the car into drive once Malcolm had gotten in and buckled,] I don't often come with good news.

[Boyd's bar was only 15 minutes away, though Raylan made it in ten. No one was going to stop his town car, out here, and he knew it.]

Just don't pay any attention to Boyd's comments. The man likes to lord himself up above us lowly simple minded people.

Everything he says is going to tell me something about him. [Malcolm looked at him before getting out of the car.] I expect his guesses about me won't contain anything I've never heard.

[He looked at the outside of the building, sizing it up, not approaching until Raylan drew alongside him.]

Ain't much there to be interested in, I assure you.

[Raylan turned as he closed the car door, adjusting his hat in the early midday sun as Bob and his shitty pinto drove up. Raylan was grateful Bob wasn't honking his arrival, though the man certainly looked like he could, with the expression on his face as he got out of his car.]

Hey thanks again for doin' this Raylan. It's just a citation for a lapse in Boyd's liquor licences, but you know. [Raylan nodded.] I know, [he assured. With a glance back at Malcolm, Raylan bobbed his head and led the way into Boyd's badly lit bar.

The underlighting of the bartop made it feel a bit cheaper, the place not being much more than the bar and the walls that surrounded it, save the decorations that someone, at some time, had put up in an attempt to make the place feel some kind of cozy. Four men were in the bar - one behind the bar, one in front of it and two at scattered tables.

The man at the bar turned around with a creeping smile that was, somehow, all teeth. He was sharply dressed, as lean as Raylan was, and with his waistcoat and pocket watch, dressed in a hillbilly suit.]

Well Raylan Givens. As I live and breathe. And Constable Bob- [Boyd continued, gesturing wildly at the shorter, stouter man as he shuffled in. Malcolm however got a curious look and Boyd looked back at Raylan without moving his head for a half moment before swinging his one hand wide in gesturing alliteration.] Shoulda told me you were coming Raylan, I woulda had Ava make some of that fried chicken I know you like so much. And with guests? Oh what a momentous day. You finally find someone able to tolerate your shit?

[Raylan took it all with a passive look, lifting his head with a faint crinkle of poile amusement that didn't reach his eyes or more than barely surface deep. He knew it was better to indulge Boyd his showmanship.]

Just here to back up Bob, Boyd. Apparently, you've lapsed on your licences and owe a fine. Bob'll tell you the details, [ he offered cordially with a bob and downturn of his head.] You just gotta sign them, pay the fine if you don't wanna take the drive to the court house, and we'll be outta your hair.

[Malcolm looked faintly interested as he glanced around, wandering a short way away from the group to look at one of the pictures on the wall. He looked over at Boyd when Raylan was done talking, before Boyd could reply.]

I only came because I wanted to see why a liquor licence violation needed backup. There are only a few neighbourhoods in New York where you see that and... well, people dressed like you tend to pay their licences up there because their bar is a front for shadier things and they don't want cops and marshals and feds poking around there.

[It would feel like everyone in the room swung their eyes towards Malcolm at the 'Dressed like you' comment, gazes swiftly returning to Boyd to see his response. Raylan lifted his eyebrows. Man had a point.]

A simple mishandling of paperwork, stranger. I don't believe I have seen you around these parts before, friend. Raylan, who've you brought to us today?

Ain't none of your business Boyd, we're here for Bob. [Raylan was desperately trying to keep the lid on this can of worms, but Boyd had no interest in Bob, despite Bob's failed stuttering attempt to lift the papers he had clutched in his hand.]

Don't be /rude/ Raylan, introduce us.

[Raylan sighed the sigh of those put upon and gestured as he spoke.]

Boyd Crowder, Malcolm Bright. Bright, this is Boyd Crowder. Simple bar owner and apparently, bored asshole.

Edited 2020-05-03 02:08 (UTC)

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