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

It was nice meeting all of you. [Politely, before stepping out the door in front of Raylan.

Once they were outside, Malcolm looked at Raylan.]

It was something I said, right?

It was definitely something you said. [Raylan took a deep breath, eyes widening a little with it at Malcolm as he turned to address Bob, holding out the papers.]

Gun ended up getting pulled on you anyway, sorry about that Bob.

Ah, you know I'm used to it Raylan. But thanks for coming along and helpin' out anyway.

[Raylan nodded.] You let me know if he gives you any shit because of this too.

I will, Raylan, sure thing.

[Raylan nodded again and turned Malcolm and himself towards the car with a hovering hand.] Once we're in the car.

[Malcolm let himself be shooed into the car. It wouldn't be the first time he got caught up and went too far nor likely the last. But Boyd really was a sad, scared little man on the inside and it was written large all over his face. He turned to Raylan once the door was shut.]

I wasn't expecting him to be broadcasting like that. His issues are just out there.

[Raylan started with his hands on the wheel - they weren't going anywhere yet, he had to deal with this seed in his caw, but he had to do something. It was clear he'd decided to start when one hand came out, his face turning slightly but not all the way towards Malcolm, letting his eyes do the rest.]

Boyd is a pain in my ass because we were friends. At most, he is pissed that I got up outta here for a good number of years. He and I? We weren't ever the same.

[He started to lean back but continued.] Doesn't matter what kinda love you're talking about out here, we do not talk about our feelings. Especially with strangers. Either someone's friendly or they ain't. You know how many young kids get beat to death out here because someone outs them or runs a rumour around that they're gay? That shit is damaging to reputations and soft power of grown men, and the insinuation can get you shot.

[Now he started the car, and rolled them out and back towards the main road.]

When you said poke, I thought you meant poke, not try to gut him.

Okay. Good feedback. ...Gut him, huh. Is that what I did? [He looked out the front window, because he was concerned that if he looked at Raylan, he'd see he was mad at him.] In fairness, this is why I don't have any friends. People do not like what I do. [He looked down at his hands.] And I have a hard time not doing it. [A confession, not an excuse.

Something occurred to him and he did look at Raylan suddenly.]

They're not going to.... try to assassinate me or something.

Not assassinate you but we're sure as hell not going to any bars in the nearby counties. They don't have the balls to come down to the house, and if they do, we'll deal with it then.

[Yes, that was a very real by-product of Malcolm's brand of poking.]

These people aren't ever going to understand what it is you do. Or.. what you are. The stereotyping goes both ways.

You don't want friends from out here.

[Malcolm looked out the window, then looked at Raylan again.]

I'm sorry. For making trouble. I think... it's a good idea if we just stay at the house. ...Or go back to Lexington. I wasn't trying to make your job harder.

I promised genuine Kentucky experience. Can't have one of those without a tussle. [He assured with a bit of softness in his voice and a curl of his smile.]

Plus, we've already got you installed at Arlo's. We're not wasting my blood, sweat and tears. And the hotel will charge me for extra holes.

[He looked over again, less concerned about what he'd see with that reassurance. Things looked promising. Maybe he could ask a question.]

...So are you less... emotionally challenged than they are because you lived in Miami or... is that just... you?

[Raylan looked over at him and scoffed, genuinely amused.] Am I?

I'll admit I've already told you more than I have most people but I blame you. You're the most open book I've seen. You.. aren't ashamed or shy about what you've suffered, due to most people in New York knowing. Or how you feel. I imagine it's quite nice.

Well, it's...

[He paused and looked at Raylan, a little confused.]

You're not usually like that?

[Mostly rhetorical. Something to chew on.]

I'm actually not ashamed or shy about it anymore, after years of therapy and learning to live with myself and... sometimes I still slip. [He made a sort of 'point of order' gesture.] I could have told you about the night terrors before you had to tackle me to safety in the middle of the night. I knew it would happen. I hoped I could keep it...contained. I did not. I told you after, because you caught me.

Edited 2020-05-04 03:24 (UTC)

Only person I've told most of it to that didn't know from living out here was Winona.

Point bein', you told me. You coulda lied, you could have not elaborated.. [Raylan glanced over at him as he drove.] You chose to. Now I don't know if that's because of my charm or your need to be understood, which I get, that's natural, but we coulda talked about.. crops or the mines or the history of the place...

[ They hadn't. ]

Your job revolves so much around and in it, feelings. Works on paper. Works in high stress situations. Doesn't work so well on paper signings or dealin' with Boyd's bullshit.

[Malcolm considered that.]

You know how, every time we talked about me coming here or... or anyone visiting here, really, you emphasized the prominence of the gun culture? It seemed like it was just... a regional hobby, in its way. But it's not. If people here pretend they don't have feelings - even to themselves - then how can they deal with them? I'll tell you how: they shoot some people. [A beat.] ...Or throw rocks at them, apparently. Gun violence is toxic masculinity's gift to the world.

[He glanced over.] Because everything is about feelings, whether we like it or not. A witness might not remember where or when or how something happened, but they'll remember how they felt. That being said, it's hard for anyone to talk about it. It's hard to let ourselves be vulnerable. To put our real selves out there. But when it goes well, it's always rewarding. [Another beat.] Though when it goes badly it's devastating, which is why it's so scary....

[He paused.]

I'm rambling. Anyway. [He glanced at his hands and then at Raylan.] Thank you for sharing it with me. I'm really glad to know you.

[Raylan nodded at the question and eyed Malcolm as he kept them on the road. The reason he'd emphasized it was to try to get the depth of it across, but he wasn't surprised. Everyone thought Kentucky to be simple. It wasn't, by any stretch.

Having already gathered the Malcolm was also more than a little touch starved and not wanting to brush the thanks off for his seeming inability to say 'You're Welcome', Raylan reached over and turned over his hand.

.. Wanna hold it?]

You gotta keep in mind the lengths people go to not feel them. It's not pretending, it's ignoring it. Running away from themselves and the truth of what they are. [Not an issue with Raylan, so much.]. We find one or two people that we trust to talk about it and to hell with everyone else.

There aren't a lotta rewards out here, even when things go well. There's always a backdraft of some kind. A catch. [Add that onto the list of reasons he wanted to leave.]

[When Raylan extended his hand, it surprised Malcolm after all the talk of stoning people, but he reached for it - carefully, like he was afraid he might be misunderstanding its intention. Once his own hand was wrapped in the warmth of it, the shaky breath released felt like he exhaled for the first time since everything went sideways at the bar.

There was a level inside him where he was afraid he'd ruined it, because he always ruined things and almost always the same way.]

What sort of a catch?

[He was sincerely interested. The behaviour he'd seen out here so far both conformed to what he knew about human behaviour and was informed by stimuli he really had absolutely no experience with.]

[Raylan squeezed his hand gently, noting Malcolm's shaky exhale.]

Family or bullshit or assholes. People aren't allowed to just be happy, is what I mean. Poverty, bitterness, general abuse if you don't learn the social language. There's places out here that GPS hasn't even mapped.. [There was no wonder as to why he'd been reassigned here.]

[Malcolm nodded.]

I can see why you don't want to stay here. I mean, I could understand why you might not want to stay here, but now I really see why you don't want to stay here.

[He looked over at Raylan.]

You're not going to have more problems with them now?

[More danger, specifically. Because of what Malcolm did.]

[Raylan supposed there was no real explaining the depth and breadth of misery and anger that had long seeped into the hills and into its people.]

No more than I already had. I can handle Boyd. It'll be fine.

You didn't ruin anything. Just gave him a little more fodder to chew on. He'll calm down..

As long as he doesn't see you again.

[ AKA they weren't going to be doing much leaving from Arlo's til they went back to Lexington.]

[He nodded acceptance of that. Actions had consequences. It could be worse. He could still stay with Raylan; that was all he really wanted here.]

So... axe throwing?

[Something to be done in the privacy of Arlo's. If Raylan was confident Boyd's thugs wouldn't show up there, Malcolm wouldn't worry about it.]

Axe throwing, [Raylan confirmed with a nod of his head and a pull of his smile as they made their way back to Arlo's.

Fifteen minutes later, they were pulling back up and Raylan was sliding out.]

How did you get into Axe throwing? [Of all things.]

[Malcolm came around the car to draw up beside him, pressing his lips together. Ainsley had let that cat out of the bag more or less, right? He took a breath.]

Okay. So. [He glanced at Raylan, uncertain how he'd receive this information.] I had to stop taking ballet when my father was arrested. Some of the parents... weren't comfortable with me being there. It wasn't long before I was in a place where I probably would have had to drop it anyway, but... [He waved it off with both hands.] Anyway. After a while, my mother wanted me to get out of the house and... do something. We had to find something that wasn't done in groups. I saw an ad for axe throwing lessons and I think she would have let me try anything at that point if it meant I showed a genuine interest.

[Raylan listened with a faint lift of his eyebrows, happy that they were coming back around to what Ainsley had basically already told him, but he wanted the details and Malcolm seemed happy enough to comply.]

Any of that ballet stuff stick around?

[Malcolm tried to suppress a smile, but failed. He gave Raylan a coy look.]

Like... terminology? Tights? ....I'm still pretty flexible. I keep it up with all the yoga.

[Raylan lifted his eyebrows a little, and answered with a careful 'Hmm' that had the edges of his lips curling as he headed towards the house. Despite the fact that they hadn't taken things to a deeper physical level, Raylan couldn't help but have ideas about it. Good ideas.]

We'll have to test that one day.

[He couldn't stop the curl of his smile then, but he could cover it a little better as he led them into the house.]

So what should we be throwing axes at?

[Malcolm grinned at the remark. He was keen, if the way he'd pressed himself against Raylan at the first invitation was any indication.]

A block of wood is a pretty good target. It has to be sturdy; the axe will hit it hard. It's a problem if it can knock it over. And you want to make sure there's nothing behind it that can get damaged by being hit with an axe, but you have lots of room out here.

[Back in their lair, Malcolm was regaining his perky demeanour and eagerness.]

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