Text Overflow: It's just a flesh wound

[tinstar]

[Continued from: here]

[Raylan took advantage of having several hours to bring his hotel room back into something resembling tidiness, as well as taking a shower and grabbing a nap - Sleep wasn't something anyone got a lot of around Malcolm Whitly, but he'd long learned how to live and work on smaller amounts of sleep.

Dressed but with his button up open and no shoes on his feet, Raylan answered the door with a pull of a smile.] Managed to make it one piece I see. C'mon in. [ He shut the door behind him as he continued.] Flight okay?

Comments

[tinstar]

Normally, I was running for her. [The admission came with a little glance over at Malcolm.]

Chose it the day I decided that Arlo wasn't going to determine what I was or wasn't anymore. It was the Marshal's Service or dying in a mine or worse, turnin' into him. Harlan does that to people. Wears 'em down. Makes them tired and angry and bitter. The Marshal's service got me out of Kentucky and into Georgia. Anywhere is better than here.

[And Raylan meant it. Not even sentimentality could tarnish that idea. He slowed them to a stop as they came around to the far side of the bar, and the fence, as promised. ]

[abrightboy]

I know what it's like. Returning to what you ran away from and running face-first into everything you promised yourself you were never going to be. It's a special kind of pressure cooker.

[He surveyed the fence.]

How far back do you stand?

[tinstar]

[Raylan considered Malcolm's profile. He'd left Washington after getting kicked out of the FBI and returned to his father, his family and the roots of his problem. Special kind of pressure cooker indeed.]

Do you mean me personally? What'd they teach you up at Quantico?

[abrightboy]

FBI training shoots on a course ranging from 3 to 25 yards. [He looked at Raylan.] I bet you stand further away than that.

[tinstar]

You'd win that bet. [Raylan smirked as he dropped the duffle bag and squatted down over it.] I'm certified as an expert marksman and an expert quickdraw. Top of my class in ballistics and firing.

[The smirk got a little wider as he looked at Malcolm from under the brim of his hat.]

I can do a hundred. Revolver or service pistol?

[abrightboy]

I was top of my class in several things, but never marksmanship. I guess because I was never much interested in even having a gun. I passed proficiency because it was required.

[He could, after all, throw an axe with above average accuracy.]

You're making it a lot more interesting though. I'll take the service pistol. As a qualified instructor, how far back do you think I should start? It's been over eight months since I shot.

[tinstar]

[ Pulling out the revolver, Raylan unsnapped his holster and kicked his gun out with a flick of his fingers and letting it rotate over the one stuck in the trigger cage so the weight of it flipped the handle towards Malcolm.]

Start at seven. Most things happen from that distance. Start with one of my empties,[As he spoke, Raylan pulled out the rounds for it and with a flick of his wrist, snapped the cylinder out to pop in his rounds. As he stood, another flick set the cylinder back into it's place and with a swift motion across his leg as he strode forward spun it around.

Yes, he'd practiced that. A lot.]

Let me see how you do with that first. [It wasn't just how close Malcolm got to his target, it was also how the man fired.]

[abrightboy]

That was... very cool. [He took the weapon and walked forward, giving the ground between himself and the fence a critical eye.] About here? [Once confirmed, he stepped into a very formal stance As Trained By The FBI. It was clear he'd been taught to do this in a technical way but had not made it his own at all. He fired. From seven yards, he hit all the targets, though not completely consistent in where he hit them.]

[tinstar]

[Raylan grinned in response and nodded.

He watched Malcolm fire several rounds and nodded again.]

You're a decent shot. A little stiff, but decent. Not bad for not firing for 8 months, [Once the targets were set up again, Raylan came back and took a few steps back.]

Come stand here. [Once Malcolm was next to him, Raylan told him to aim. They had to work on form first.] When you stand, you're very square in it. Makes you a broader target. If you turn your body a little..

[If this had been just a class at Glynco, Raylan would have just kept talking, but his hands were still itching and goddamnit, Raylan wanted to touch him. With his piece ill fitting but held in his service holster, he slid his hands along Malcolms side and turned him a little.] Make yourself a smaller target in return. [His hands moved to Malcolm's shoulder, shifting those too so Malcolm's dominate arm was a little more forward.] Bend your elbows a little more, they'll absorb some of the shift and let you narrow in better. Bullet goes just as far.

[He was aware he was a little too close, a little to everything in Malcolm's ear, but in a moment of faith, Raylan hoped Malcolm would tell him if that was the case, if Malcolm had some objection to it..]

[abrightboy]

[Would he have been as good shooting by himself? Hard to say, but he definitely was trying harder to impress the sharpshooter who brought him here.

As such, he was very pliable in Raylan's hands, allowing himself to be repositioned.

Were his hands always that warm? He was pretty sure... yes. Raylan always felt like that.

Um. Something about being a smaller target. Right. He tried to focus on what Raylan was telling him. He still wanted to impress as a student. He raised the weapon again, once he was in position as guided by Raylan.]

It feels weirdly uneven. [He laughed lightly.] Is that normal? I just need to adapt, right?

[tinstar]

Shift everything slightly so that it's not, Find your comfortable position here. Feet, hips.. This is a moving position, even though we're not. Left foot forward a fraction..

[ Raylan stepped up next to him, pulling his weapon and showing him what it did look like as a comfortable stance, and shot one of the targets. The stance helped pull his gun up to level down his sight, giving him more coverage, however scant the inch or so was.

Every inch mattered when you were getting shot at.]

[abrightboy]

[Malcolm watched him carefully, which was no hardship at all, then imitated the position. It took him a moment of fidgeting, but it finally felt right. He shot again. He was by no means dead centre, but he hit it and it felt better. He looked at Raylan to see what he thought.]

[tinstar]

[Raylan nodded.] Much better.

[he walked over and set up the targets again, grabbing one of the full beers from the bag as he went and popping off the cap with his ring.] Wanna try it from a little further back?

[Malcolm wasn't going to be a sharpshooter, not without practice at least, but if he could by and large hit center here, Raylan figures pulling back further will give the man a little more challenge.]

[abrightboy]

[Further back! He tried not to look too excited.]

How far?

[He started moving backwards, his eyes on Raylan, the gun pointed at the ground.]

[tinstar]

[The fact that Malcolm could keep his barrel pointed where it belong bought him points. Raylan didn't fuck with loaded guns like that, even as gesturey as he knew he was.

Raylan turned to walk forward in time with Malcolm, humming a little note as he eyed the targets. He stopped another 7 yards out, putting them closer to 15.]

Try it from here?

[abrightboy]

[Malcolm nodded, then it took him a second to figure out the positioning Raylan had taught him again before he raised the gun and fired at a couple of targets. He hit them both, but one was only just. He more winged it. He looked at Raylan.] That wasn't so good, huh?

[tinstar]

Two outta three is nothing to sneeze at. Just means we don't go back further than this more than an extra yard or two and work on your aim from there.

Can I ask you something? I know you're trained and all but I also gather you're not overly fond of the idea of carrying. Why is that?

[abrightboy]

Well. I didn't mind carrying. I just... wasn't overly fond of pointing it at people. [He held up his free hand, the gun pointed at the ground again.] I'm not afraid to do it if I have to. I just... prefer to talk people into giving up theirs, rather than using mine. I haven't had one since I left DC and I don't miss it.

[Even he had a hard time quantifying how much the idea that he wasn't a killer - as opposed to his father - made up his identity in his own mind.]

But I'm also not usually the one making arrests. I just... facilitate the arrest.

[tinstar]

[Raylan glanced at the ground for a moment before coming back up to look at Malcolm.]

I would say that 95% of the time, I'd rather talk people out of theirs but.. You've got a skill at that, Malcolm. One that I don't. I only draw to kill and people are obsessed enough with the wild west and cowboys and quickdraws.. I don't have much of a choice.

I don't take any pleasure in it. [For some reason, it was important that Malcolm know that. Raylan didn't enjoying having to shoot people dead.]

[abrightboy]

Of course you don't. You're not a sociopath.

[Matter of factly. The notion that it did never entered his mind. His eyes drifted down to Raylan's holster.]

Do people really try to challenge you to draw like it's the Old West?

[tinstar]

[A beat passed before he answered, soaking in the validation Malcolm's faith gave him. ]

Everyone always thinks they can outdraw me. Or anyone. [The challenge wasn't about him, not really. No one coming to gun him down and gain notoriety.] Everyone wants to be Billy the Kid or Wyatt Earp. Miami made it worse. [Raylan was happy to rise to that challenge, but that didn't mean he didn't get tired of people trying.]

Quarles tried to outdraw me. [ Outdrawing him didn't always mean someone had a gun.] I'm tired of people I care about getting hurt because of my job.

[abrightboy]

A lot of people who are good at this job have that regret.

[He stepped closer, leaning in to give Raylan a brief but tender kiss, then offered him the gun back.] I'll have to keep practicing.

[tinstar]

[ Raylan breathed Malcolm in deep, lips following his a little as he withdrew and while Raylan glanced down to take the gun, his eyes quickly came back up to Malcolm's. Another beat pass and Raylan was reaching out for Malcolm, sliding his hand along his jaw and drawing him in for another kiss.

Damn everything, Raylan couldn't argue that he was a little bit in love with Malcolm Bright.]

Gives us both something to work on...

Come into the barn with me. To hell with shooting. To hell with Bob. He can wait til tomrrow.

[abrightboy]

[Malcolm met that kiss with a soft hum against Raylan's mouth, his hands coming to rest around Raylan's ribs. After that kiss? Raylan could have taken him literally anywhere. Though he had a minor concern about Bob, even as he walked towards the barn.]

What if he comes back to the house looking for you?

[tinstar]

He won't. People around here know that I'll move in my own time. Bob will assume that I got dragged into some exciting Marshal matter.

[ Raylan grabbed the duffle bag as he walked by, pulling and dropping the revolver into the bag so he could holster his service pistol back in its holster before pulling that from his belt and dropping it in the bag too. With a glance behind them, Raylan pulled one door and then the second, leaving it cracked. The duffle bag was dropped as Raylan turned his attention back onto Malcolm.]

Next time you come, I'm not going to waste time in not kissing you.