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

[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.

[Raylan grinned, lifting his eyebrows in a passing motion. Things like that seemed to happen out here.]

It's a mixed pot, that's for sure...

It's the hat, isn't it.

It's a little bit the hat. It's not entirely the hat. The walk is a factor. And the sort of smoldery way you... look.

[Not that he's been compiling a list or anything.]

[His smirk curled back into a grin.]

You think I'm 'smoldery'? And here I was tryin' to be subtle.

'Subtle' is not something being achieved by anyone on this couch. Sorry. There is definite and almost tangible smoldering going on over there at all times.

[That made Raylan laugh as he took another sip of the scotch.]

I did not smolder at you at all the first day you walked into the office.

[It was a losing argument and he knew it.]

Edited 2020-04-29 22:35 (UTC)

Excuse me, sir, but you most certainly, willfully and knowingly did and let me tell you how hard it was to concentrate.

Uh-huh. [This wasn't his fault, but he'd take the credit.] Did not.

[He laughed, at them both and the delightful, half juvenile conversation they were having. After a beat, Raylan took a deep breath.]

I gotta say, there is one thing I like about out here. The air. Especially when it rains.

Oh right! Petrichor. [He gestured with the glass in his hand because he was not willing to risk dislodging what the other hand was holding.] Because of all the dust. I bet it smells amazing.

[ He</> looked over at Malcolm, face faintly pinched in confusion.]

Petrichor? [Yeah sorry - no word of the day calendars for Raylan and the dust comment confused him further. What did dust have to do with rain or the weight of the air?]

The way dust smells when it rains.

[Matter of fact; no judgement.]

It's what makes rain smell nice. Especially out in the countryside.

Huh. Learn somethin' new every day. [He didn't mind. Learning was a good thing.]

Storms.. do something to the air out here. Supercharge it. You can feel the electricity, it lifts the hairs on the back of your neck and the wind.. steals the breath from your lungs, almost as fast as you can draw it in. Makes me feel small again. Like I got somethin' to fear more than getting shot. You got a fancy word for that?

[ Not asked with any condescension towards Malcolm's education - that's what the Whitly's had paid for, after all.]

No. [He looked at Raylan.] That's awe. I'd like to see it. Maybe there'll be a storm while I'm here.

We'll check the weather report, though sometimes even they don't catch the random spring storms.

[Raylan looked over at Malcolm, internally noting that their hands were still laced together and tucked into Malcolm's lap. Was this what their future 'normal' might look like?]

You've felt awe like that, right? Somewhere?

[He liked Raylan's hand intertwined with his hand. It felt right. Fragile, somehow, but also right.

He nodded.]

The first time I saw the ocean. It was a windy day. The waves were taller than I was.

[Raylan smiled.]

I like the ocean. [There was a reason he'd chosen Miami as his transfer.] Have you see both of them?

Yeah, but by the time I got to the Pacific, I was on the job and... it wasn't the same. Four of us were in Los Angeles hunting down a serial killer that targeted women by pretending to be a talent scount for Hollywood. Anyway, when we were done, they all wanted to go to that murder museum in LA 'for a laugh', they said. But... I didn't go with them. [He looked at Raylan.] They thought I was being weird but... that place has an exhibit about my father and... I didn't want to see it with them.

[Raylan winced, having seen L.A. It seemed like exactly the kind of town to foster that kind of ugliness. He squeezed Malcolm's hand gently.]

I don't blame you. It's pretty, for what that's worth. I liked it when I saw it. L.A. as well. Chasing down another thug for another gang that lives out of these international travel hubs. [Another reason that he liked Miami.]

Feel like the Atlantic is more.. intimidating, but maybe I'm biased. More souls over it, or something.

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