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

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.

When I said there wasn't anyone around for a good mile, I meant it. This property backs a pasture that's pretty sizeable itself. Last time the Givens property got inspected, I think the paper read some 7 acres. Mighta been eight.

[It wasn't an unsubstantial bit of land.]

Got any curb appeal tips for this? [The question came with a grin. You couldn't really landscape fields. While Raylan was no farmer, nor was Arlo, it was clear that that's what the land was used for, at one point in time.]

Edited 2020-04-25 20:16 (UTC)

You can't see this from the curb. [Pointed out reasonably.] But I imagine land is as valuable here as it is anywhere else. If the house and yard look nice, it'll increase the value and the likelihood to sell.

Only if you can do something with it. Harlan is here because of the mining industry. Farming didn't take well enough to stick around, since most everyone was in the mines, so all it's really good for is being a pain in my ass and pasture.

That's how the Givens got the land. One of the first families to snap it up when the mining started. I know it's not old New York Money, but we used to have some. Not ever in Arlo's time, or in his daddy's time, or his daddy's time but.. Once upon a time.

[Raylan wasn't bothered by it either. He'd long gotten over being poor in such a way. Bank poor, land rich, which was only worth it if the land was working somehow.

He pointed out ahead at a small barn in the distance, a good 5 minute walk at the pace they were going. Long legs made short work of it all anyway.]

Welcome to the gun range.

All you really need is a buyer with the imagination to develop it.

[Everywhere could be made into something. The trick was to figure out what was needed there.]

Is the gun range the outside wall of the barn or have you kitted out the inside of it?

If you can find me one...

[ Raylan had to double take at Malcolm, before breaking out an honest proper laugh, adjusting his hat.]

Neither. It's the fence on the other side. I might put a few holes in Arlo's house, but I like that barn. [It was said with an endearing affection.]

[Malcolm watched his expression with interest.]

So... the house has bad memories but the barn has good memories. [He's surmising, at any rate. He could hear that vocal affection. He could see its corroboration in Raylan's features.]

Barn's got better memories than the house, I'll tell you that. Made a good place to hide too. When I was young and stupid, I'd steal whiskey or beer from Arlo and light out here to listen to him yell and scream and carry on only to peel out to look for me in all the wrong places.

Helen knew, though. She always seemed to know.

[He smiled at that story.]

Well. You weren't really hiding from her.

[He glanced over.]

It doesn't seem like you always had any kind of direction in mind. How did you get one, suddenly?

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