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

You think you're going to be killed in the line of duty.

[Somberly. He'd worry about it too, now.]

What... what does this whole Boyd thing entail? Maybe I can help you finish it and then you can get out of here.

Edited 2020-04-29 00:25 (UTC)

[Raylan didn't say anything and didn't nod but he pushed back from his chair and stood up to pad across the kitchen in search of tupperware. Yes, he did think that.]

It entails me catching him in the act of something. If I'm going to put him away, its going to be for a long time, not a couple of years with good behavior. I've.. I've gotta deal with him. For good. In a way that doesn't end with him in a pine box, if I can help it.

[Raylan came back with an orange tupperware container, likely from the 80's, and started moving pieces in, leaving one for Malcolm to decide over. He poured another two fingers, glancing at Malcolm from under his eyebrows with an earnest:] But thank you.

Just like I wish I could help you with your father. [He sighed and sat down.]

If I had it my way, we'd fly out to Miami tomorrow. The both of us. [But they both had things they had to do and nothing, not even each other would stop them from doing that.]

[Malcolm picked up the piece left to him and dropped it in the tupperware, then unfolded from the chair and wrapped his arms around Raylan, pressing his face into the marshal's shoulder.]

Well there's some kind of rule against you getting shot. [Said the man who showed up here because he got shot.]

[Raylan took another deep breath, hands running up Malcolm's arms. He'd missed this, this intimacy. Someone worrying about if he'd come home again, alive. Though, that was why Winona had left him, in part. Maybe Malcolm wouldn't.]

Is there? Ratified into law and everything? [He smirked with a tilt of his head into Malcolm's.] I'd say the same to you, but you've already broken that rule. That wound has probably dried. Want me to put a fresh bandage on it? I'm not trying to rush you into a shirt but we can't sit and soak in the could bes of the future. Doesn't do much but add worry to a heavy cart.

[Malcolm lifted his head to look at Raylan and nodded, but before stepping out of the way to let him work, he reached up and ran his fingers along Raylan's jaw, then leaned up and kissed him.]

[Raylan studied Malcolm's face and all the compassion in it, feeling himself fall a little more in love with Malcolm as he kissed him, hands coming down and around his waist. It was meant to be a chaste kiss, a way to relieve their emotions, the tension that the rough conversation stirred up, but Raylan couldn't help himself.

When it broke a few long moments later, Raylan stepped back, face and eyes flush with a hint of what they'd started, but he was, frankly, looking forward to laying down and wrapping Malcolm up in his arms.]

You, bathroom, now.

[After the tenderness and hint of heat in that kiss, the order issued made Malcolm smile fondly and nod before grabbing his t-shirt off the empty chair next to his and heading up the stairs. At this time the previous day he'd been sitting alone in his loft, considering whether he should text Raylan or not. He possibly had made the best decision of his life.]

[Raylan hadn't gotten most of what he wanted to get done done, but he wouldn't trade the difference. He followed Malcolm up and into the bathroom, pulled the first aid kit down from linen cabinet.]

How many times have you been shot before? This your first one?

[He had to think about it.]

This is my first bullet wound, yeah. I've been stabbed, though. Oh! And a serial killer knocked me out with a cattle prod once. [He made a bit of a face.] I've been beat up more than once. [More than half a dozen times, actually.] And I've been hit with the butt end of guns several times. Handguns and rifles. One time a guy threw me down a concrete staircase. [He looked at Raylan.] Does that kind of thing still happen a lot when you're willing to shoot people? I might have to revise my approach. [Noted with a bit of a laugh.]

[ Raylan started with some Neosporin, one hand settled on Malcolm's shoulder to help remind him to be on the stiller side while Raylan worked. His brow lifted a little in a bit of surprise belief - Yeah, that sounds about right, but he scoffed a little frown at the staircase.]

Only when they know I'm coming. I've gotten more than my fair share of assbeatings and pistol whippings. Does mean I get shot at and shot a lot, but sometimes taking a fist is better. I got strung up by my heel once. Dickie Bennett was hellbent on trying to break my leg. Too bad his breed of stupid is hilariously ineffective.

[Raylan laid the gauze over Malcolm's wound and started taping it into place.]

He wanted to break you leg. Specifically. ...Why was that? Who is he?

Cause I broke his when we were younger. Gave him a hellva limp. The Bennetts are another known family down here. Mags Bennett used to run the family, but she's gone now. Used to make a hellva Apple Pie moonshine though. Of course, she also used it to..

[Raylan stopped, glancing at Malcolm in the reflection before patting him and stepping back.]

Anyway, Dickie's had it out for me since high school. I'm surprised he was able to get the knots right enough to hold me.

All done.

[Malcolm's gaze in the mirror was assessing.]

Did she... do something to you?

[Asked as he turned around.]

Mags? Nah. She liked me well enough. Remembers my family and their troubles. I've turned my head once or twice to the weed trade they used to run. Bigger fish.

[Raylan chewed over it a second longer.] But she's killed a few people. Cyanide in the bottom of their glasses and her famous apple pie moonshine.. [He lifted his eyebrows at Malcolm as he spoke, before turning and heading them back out into the hall.]

So don't take nothing that you haven't watched get opened, is all. Mags was the only kind to do that, far as I know, but the new generation is still young and dumb. Might try to take up old mantles or something.

[ He took another deep breath.] I think I'm going to sit on the porch with some more of that scotch you brought. Wanna join me?

[It was cute that Raylan thought Malcolm might not want to be wherever he was at while he could be.]

Yeah. I wouldn't mind another small glass. [Play it cool, Bright.

Malcolm pulled his shirt on and, once they were sat on the porch with the scotch, he glanced over.]

...So the matriarch of the weed-growing family made illegal whiskey and also was a serial killer. And none of these things were bad enough to even be on the radar for the cops around here. [He glanced around the seemingly serene countryside.] This sure is a neighbourhood.

[It was a beat up couch, one that had likely been kicked around and Raylan had to move a screen off it before they could both sit down. He took a shallow pull of his glass and listened to the crickets fill the night air.

Scoffing, he bobbed his head.'This sure is a neighbourhood' felt like a funny understatement and Raylan smirked.]

People out here have been making moonshine since before prohibition in the 30's and the cops are kept busy with worse things. Doesn't help that there are places where the cops don't go, not without swat and a damned good reason. You get too many drunk hillbillies with guns and you're asking for trouble. Doesn't help that the people in the police department are these people too. Willin' to take bribes, smudge paper for money and profit. That last one isn't too different from anywhere else in the world but the rest of the world has more people to see it and call bullshit.

More people who actually give a crap about right and wrong and who dies in-between.

You care about those things.

[That much was obvious. But it was also obvious that that was a reason that being here was so hard on him.]

It must be frustrating to have to deal with it all, all by yourself.

[He did. Deeply.]

This place is a pain in my ass. [It was a close to a yes as he could get.] Only reason they assigned me here was because of who I am. That's why I gotta deal with Boyd. When I leave again, [and he was putting out 'I am Leaving' energy to the universe], he's not going to be the reason I'm pulled back.

[He wasn't the kind of man to linger in the frustrations and hardships of a situation. Once he was done surviving it, he could stew as long as he liked and wish he'd done one thing or another differently. Raylan looked over at Malcolm.]

What answers are you looking for in New York? What's keeping you there, tied to your father?

[Malcolm glanced down into his glass, then looked at Raylan.]

The girl in the box. I need to know what happened on the camping trip. I need to know what happened to her. She... is basically haunting me. She's in my nightmares and in my head...... and he's the only one that knows what he did with her.

[Raylan held his gaze as he spoke and only glanced down when it was over to slip his hand into Malcolm's and thread their fingers together. Yeah, definitely nothing he could do to help with that - beating Martin would get Malcolm no further and only make Raylan look more violent than he wanted to be. But he could sit here with him. Be with him and make the waking, non-haunted, non-nightmare times better.

Raylan had to hope that affection could help. Not solve, but ease, however slightly. He had to.

He also had to wonder what Malcolm would do if he couldn't wrest those answers from his father.]

And when that's done? You think you can leave New York behind?

[Raylan took his hand. Outside. Not, like, in public or anything and he didn't expect that. But it still felt like Something. His gaze lifted to Raylan's face, lingering there a moment before he spoke softly.]

If I have somewhere to go.... I don't see why not.

[Raylan nodded, looking down at their hands again for a long moment before looking out over the top of the camper that largely marred the view from the porch as his thumb took to an idle stroke across Malcolm's hand.]

I hope you get what you need from him. With as little scars as possible, [he finished with a bit of levity as he glanced over at Malcolm,] considering that historical list I got upstairs.

[Malcolm ducked his head with a breath of a laugh.] Most of them didn't scar. [In his defence. He looked at Raylan.] How did that guy string you up by your ankle? Did he get you to walk into a loop of rope like in a cartoon? [Because that was a mental image.]

[He bobbed his head in response, smile spreading in playful acceptance. He wasn't going to argue. He could. But he wouldn't. Malcolm's following question got a sheepishly embarrassed huff of amusement, Raylan's eyes staying forward and low for a moment before coming back around to him.]

Exactly like that. Oddest shit that's ever happened to me. Who does that? Asshole ended up getting shot for it which left me hanging til Tim showed up. Really took 'cool' points off my record.

[Malcolm laughed.] You know what? I really didn't expect 'yes' to be the answer. I don't know why. This guy's mom was a casual part time serial killer. I guess I'm lucky I didn't have any high school rivals. [A beat.] I mean. Or friends, either. But. [He shrugged, then looked at Raylan.] I'm reasonably confident that you generally have 'cool points' to spare.

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