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

[He grinned.] Probably. But it might make her like my law enforcement career more.

[Malcolm pointed it at the house and squeezed the trigger. It jerked in his hand and he let go. He looked at Raylan.] It has more kick than I was expecting. [He set the nozzle down, peeled his sweater off over his head, leaving him in his t-shirt, throwing the sweater onto the porch before picking up the nozzle again. He grasped it more tightly this time and prepared for the kick as he pressed the trigger, aiming it at the top of the wall to work his way down.]

[ Raylan found himself grinning back at Malcolm at the quip, enjoying the metaphorical Jessica's horror at what he was getting her son to do far too much. Malcolm peeling off his sweater was.. delightfully distraction and Raylan watched every hint of skin that peeked out with the motion, waiting long enough for Malcolm to figure it out himself before he'd go off to do anything else.

Malcolm wasn't a stupid man and Raylan knew that but there was something deeply satisfying in watching the New Yorker do something so menial. Look so.. normal, even with his crip black jeans. Raylan forced himself to focus, sliding a hand across Malcolm's back before patting and seeing to these tires that he really could have moved before.

An hour and a half, and 3 beers later, Raylan was killing the pressure washer at Malcolm's request after an elevated conversation to get above the hum of the machine that made it all happen.]

Well shit. Beyond a few boards I see that will need to be replaced, you did a damned fine job, [ he said, wiping the sweat from hauling the spread logs and refuse into a general place. His overshirt had long been abandoned, leaving his shoulders glossy with sweat.]

[Malcolm was breathing a little heavily from the exertion and it felt good. Raylan's shoulders were twice as distracting as normal when they were glistening like that, but he tried not to stare. The compliment on his work made him smile broadly and he looked up at the wall and then at Raylan again.]

Break time? If you want something to eat, I'll even attempt to eat something.

Break time, [He confirmed with a nod before curling a smile at Malcolm.]

I bought some chicken, I could set it a brine now for after we deal with Boyd, and sandwiches, soups or a collection of random snacking items in the meantime, [he offered with a pull of his grin as he finshed catching the rest of his breath.

This felt.. amazingly normal. Like they could, somehow, manage to make something as insane as living together work. It was stupid, but it made Raylan's heart beat a little faster with a little more adrenaline.]

[Malcolm could still feel Raylan's earlier touch on his back like it was tattooed there in electricity. He breathed a smile at the list of food.]

I don't know what setting chicken in brine is, but sure! In the meantime, I'm willing to look at these assorted snacks.

[Just a little something so they could sit at the table together. He headed up to the door, feeling a strange combination of comfortable ease with and hyperawareness of Raylan's presence.]

Dinner, is what that is, [Raylan admitted as he jerked his head towards the door and headed that way, pulling off his hat to air off the dampness there and running his fingers through it as they stepped up onto the porch and into the house.

There wasn't AC but a few pre opened windows let some air move through the house just enough to keep it an acceptable temperature.

Raylan's first stop was the sink so he could get a glass of water.] You need water or anything? Only other thing I've got is beer and.. Iced tea, I think.

Water's fine. [He followed Raylan into the kitchen, glancing around. Not much different from the last time he was there, but he noticed Helen's bat this time.]

What are you expecting to happen at this bar tonight? [He glanced down.] Oh, do you think I should change?

[ After downing a full glass of water himself in one impressive go, Raylan refilled his glass and pulled down another flower print glass that, much like the wallpaper upstairs, was likely older than both of them, and definitely not crystal, filling it as well before he turned around and handed it over to Malcolm.]

Hydrations important in this weather.

[With the invitation to look Malcolm over, Raylan took it and took his time with it as he grabbed and pulled another long draft from his water glass. There was a lot to look at. Malcolm had dusted off a little of his newness, though his jeans would take months of use to really dust it off.]

No. You look fine just like that. [A little worked, a little breathless with his drinking, a little brighter in his everything.] Boyd's going to mark you as a new face anyway. I'd warn you about his type but.. [Raylan bobbed his head.]

You're used to his kinda talker. I expect he'll poke at me, then poke at you and showboat before we get him to sign whateverthehell [His accent and the peek of irritation that he was being interrupted for this shit made the words run together.] Bob needs him too.

Just.. don't mind all the guns. Everyone's got 'em down here.

Am I allowed to poke back? [Asked as he opened a cupboard to poke at the snacks.] Are these Jell-o cups? [He took the pack down and broke it apart to get to the orange ones in the middle. He looked over at Raylan as he peeled the top off one.] Does being a bit dusty make me look less carpetbaggy? [Guns didn't bother him. He preferred not to get shot, but he could usually talk people out of that. And he'd seen what Raylan could do when he couldn't. He fished around a drawer for a spoon, then poked it towards Raylan.] Am I asking too many questions?

[Raylan's smile crept a little further with each question, letting Malcolm run out of them before he started trying to answer.]

Yes, Yes, yes, and no, respectively.

I might have prepped a little. Hope springs eternal.

[Setting about his brine, Raylan pulled down his spices, salt and a bowl and started putting it all together as he continued.]

Even if you didn't look 'carpetbaggy' [his amusement with the word came with a curl of his smile and a glance at Malcolm.] it'd only take one word from you for Boyd to pick it out. Last thing Boyd is, is stupid. He was a powerman in the mines. Ran the TNT. After that, he became a Nazi and then a preacher.. So maybe he's little stupid.

Actually, it sounds like he has a classic case of Childhood Emotional Neglect. You mentioned that his father was a powerful local criminal? Powerful people usually exert extreme control over all areas of their life. So he goes from group to group, looking for somewhere to belong, but also looking for a sense of control over not only his own life, but over other people.

[His tone was very conversational. This was an intellectual exercise. He took a bite of jell-o.]

Were you and he friends when you worked together? [Curiously.] Because there might be a reason you're more successful at dealing with him than others are.

Oh well he does have that. [Raylan assured.] Control of people is what makes Boyd feel all warm and fuzzy.

We dug coal together... [His hands stilled and rest on the sides of the bowl.] There's.. something about being 45 feet down a shaft. When you're down there, everyone takes care of everyone. Even me and Boyd. Some 7 months in and out of there before I finally lit out of here. He saved my life once.[The rambling thought was caught before it got much further and Raylan filled the bowl with water.

Yes, they were friends, at some point. Hell, they still kinda were, despite the fact it conflicted with his promises to put Boyd down. His need to put Boyd behind bars so Boyd didn't go killing more innocent people.]

He misses you. [Educated guess on Malcolm's part.] I'd bet your friendship with him was one of the first and possibly one of the only emotionally fulfilling relationships in his life.

I will be sure to break out my worlds smallest violin for his losses and troubles, [Raylan replied, with only a slight edge to the otherwise normal and casual tone he used as he fished the chicken out and tore the some 6 pieces out of their package to sink into the water.]

He's why I'm back here, [Raylan continued with a glance at Malcolm before he put the bowl into the fridge for later.] instead of in Miami on a beach.

My point is you can use that against him. [Again pointing at Raylan with his spoon before digging out another bite of jell-o.] He's sentimental about you. I'm not saying he wouldn't hurt you, because the emotional connection he feels towards you actually makes that more likely, but it also makes you capable of forcing him into error by riling him up.

I rile him up by existing in his space. [Raylan said, picking up his water and leaning back against the counter, ankles crossing.] But that's not gonna help my case. If Boyd thinks I'm sniffing around something, he'll shut it down or run again. That's why we're using Ava. She's... Trustworthy enough.

Fair enough.

[He held up his empty jell-o cup.] Where's the trash?

Over there, [He indicated with a finger.]

Figure I'll call Bob in about 15 minutes. Gives us time. And I will need to change. At least my shirt.

[ Boyd wasn't special enough to see Raylan all sweaty and work pretty anymore. But Raylan wasn't rushing to call Bob either. No, his attention was more fully focused on Malcolm wandering through his childhood home.]

Unless you wanna go shooting first.

Edited 2020-04-25 19:07 (UTC)

[Malcolm found the trashcan and dropped the cup in it, getting distracted by a picture on the wall before Raylan mentioned changing and he looked over, running a hand self-consciously down the front of his shirt.] I should go get my sweater off the porch. [He considered that.] Do you think I need a sweater? A t-shirt seems super informal. ...We could shoot first? Will we have to rush it to leave on time?

Edited 2020-04-25 19:16 (UTC)

[Probably a picture of Raylan when he was boy. Helen liked keeping that stuff. Raylan didn't pay much attention.]

I think you should be comfortable. There's no one to impress out here and formally speaking, I won't really 'be' there. Not unless someone gets shot and someone has to call Art.

As for time, well.. Bob isn't going to do it without me, so it's impossible for us to be late.

I'd rather put it off til never, but so long as we do it before it gets dark.

[Malcolm grinned.]

Okay! Let's do it!

[Raylan couldn't help but grin back.]

Grab a couple of beers. You can put them in a plastic bag- [He gestured to a crocheted bag dispenser, looking like a multicolored sausage on the wall.]- so we can carry the other empties. I'll go get my revolver and some ammo for it and the 9mil. We're gonna have to take a walk so if you have to do anything else while you're here before we go, nows the time.

[Malcolm grabbed the bag and the beers and headed out on the porch, scooping up his sweater and throwing it back into the livingroom. He was ready.]

[Instead of lingering and working on that itch in his palm, Raylan slid his hat back on and headed out to the car, returning with a small duffle bag and his once abandoned overshirt.]

Toss this in there and shut the door, huh? [He pitched the shirt at Malcolm before collecting his empties and once Malcolm had shut the door, started them off between the trees and into the open field that lay beyond it. The trees almost hid it - people could see through them if they wanted but rarely did.]

We'll be going almost to the edge of the property. Might even see a cow. There's some tin cans there too, so you're not looking at just four or five shots either. If you think I'm going to let you slack.

[He did as Raylan asked, pulling the door shut behind them.]

Good. I didn't come here to slack.

[He glanced around.]

This is... delightfully remote.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject