Text Overflow: Scarecrow - The screams you're hearin are the wrong kind

[tinstar]

[Continued from here]

They'd set a 10 AM meeting time and while this wasn't Raylan's office, being in New York for reasons he wouldn't tell anyone, he'd managed to talk the local Chief into letting him borrow a conference room with a promise that Art Muller would buy him a high shelf drink next time he was in town. He was sure Art would be fine with it.. After a little cussing and swearing at him. The case he had actually been on was still active, but Raylan was waiting for someone to come in from overseas in a few days.

Set with a couple cups of coffee, Raylan (and his hat) looked over Crane's file as he waited for the man to arrive and be shown up. Crane hadn't been lying about his record; a point in the man's favor, but Raylan wasn't sure about him yet. The morning was going to prove to be interesting, if nothing else.

Comments

[hosannas_of_anguish]

10am? Shit, Crane had become a night owl since he was shitcanned last year. It was easier to do illegal chemical crimey things at night. But, jail and courts had helped some.

The former professor had been taken in by an old associate, at the cost of one of those books from the warehouse. They were all pricey books. He had fine taste in books.

Making his way into the office, he has a coffee with the markings of 7 shots of espresso in it. He had not actually expected Marshal Givens to be there he did look pleasently shocked as he made his way inside the borrowed office.

"Good morning U.S. Marshal Givens." It's to early to be this sassy.

[tinstar]

Raylan looked up from the file, pulling on a welcoming kind of closed lipped smile that he and his charm had used for many years. "Look at that, someone who can keep a meeting on time."

He nodded in approval and gestured to the nearby chair. "Go ahead and have a seat. I see you come with your own coffee. Good. This stuff is like double boiled ashes. You'd think they'd give us better coffee.." Clearly, you'd be wrong. He still hadn't caught what Crane was doing, but if things went well, they might be spending a few hours together.

[hosannas_of_anguish]

"I was a college professor for years, U.S. Marshal Givens, I am nothing if not punctual." Being late to his classes meant a zero for the whole damn day. No exceptions, so he himself was punctual as fuck.

He took a sip of his coffee and moved over to take the seat gestured to. "I am glad I did then. I am not a fan of ashes." Oh like he doesn't smoke when he gets stressed. "Also, I doubt the Marshal's brew 7 shots of espresso in a drink." He really should just do drugs... Or sleep. Whatever works.

"Is that the paperwork I need to sign, or something more devious?" he asked motioning to the file, somebody redid his nails since he got out. A nice new sheen of black over.

[tinstar]

A professor, huh? So it said in the file, but Raylan made a show of being impressed, lifting his eyebrows and everything.

"No they do not but it might make things more interesting around here." At the question, Raylan pulled another 6 or so stapled documents over and dropped them in front of Crane.

"This," he said, tapping the file, "is your file. That," he indicated with a finger at the papers. "Is your CI agreement. The little yellow flags there will show you where you need to sign. Basically, it promises that you're doing this in good faith, without intent on screwing us. On pain of jailtime. Or getting shot again. Maybe."

Depending on his mood.

[hosannas_of_anguish]

He was proud of little his degrees. He drug himself out of that hell and made something of himself. If he hadn't been fired he'd probably not turned to crime. He was happiest in academia.

Crane sat his cup of crack style coffee on the table as he leaned forward for the documents so he can actually start reading over them. He's a book man, and a college boy. He reads.

"Give me a few moments to read over this and to make sure I am not getting secretly screwed over." He spoke honestly, already feeling the old lilt coming out of his voice again. Its the Kentuckian it seems. Damn it, oh well, at least he wont be the only Country Bumpkin.

Taking a pen out, he started clicking it as his eyes scanned the page at a pretty good rate. "If I intended to screw you over, I wouldn't be here."

[tinstar]

Raylan nodded again, sipping from his coffee cup. He expected that too. Due to the way some things sometimes fell out with the Marshal's service, he couldn't say if Crane was getting screwed - it all depended on what happened out in the field.

"You can still be convicted of criminal activity if some is found, but depending on how useful and competent you prove yourself to be, it will be taken into account come time for sentencing. Your file says you're from Georgia. What brings you up to the big city?" He could guess. There was a reason that after Kentucky, he went to Miami and would have stayed there if allowed.

[hosannas_of_anguish]

Jonathan could see that much from the paperwork. Looking unempressed he started to sign his name. There was no middle name, just Jonathan Crane. Granny couldn't be assed to give him more than that.

"I assumed, but I have a good lawyer." And probably more debt if he lost that case. He shifted his eyes up from behind his glasses at the question, stopping his reading and signing for a moment. "I grew up in a town with no traffic lights, in the bible belt. I was a freak by the rules of my peers and an outcast by the rules of the rest of society. I came to the city to get as far away from those bumble fucks as possible... Plus my father is somewhere in the city. I always intended to find him, I just never got around to it."

The big bad scientist was to chicken shit to look up his daddy. "You are from Kentucky, I assume you would understand."

[tinstar]

"I put my daddy in prison," he offered in return, far too casually for there not to be a story behind it. Arlo had died there too, but that wasn't something Raylan was going to be sharing. "But trust me," he said, dad sighing as he stood up. "I do."

When Crane was done with the paperwork, Raylan took it and looked it over, giving him a cursory smile.

"Great. Welcome to the Marshal's service CI program. Now," he continued, sitting on the edge of the table as he adjusted his had back a little. "Where are we headed today, Doc?"

[hosannas_of_anguish]

That got an arch of one of his copper colored eyebrows. He didn't ask, if he really wanted to know he could look into it. "At least someone does." He muttered as he went back to reading and signing. When he finished he tossed the folder back down.

Watching Raylan move, and sit on the edge of the table with his own hazel eyes. "Do I get a badge?" He asked half jokingly. "First we start at the shipping yard. He always has one of his boys waiting. I doubt me being busted did anything but make him bolder. If not, we take a drive for a few hours. I know where his actual house is. With his wife and children. Which, he does not know I know." Don't piss Crane off.

[tinstar]

"No," he answered, short and sweet, eyes taking on a bit of humor before his finger gestured towards the pad. "Write down the addresses. We can leave in ten minutes."

He started to get off the table and stopped with a sudden question, settling back down as his finger came back around to point at Crane.

"What did the guy say that was bad enough to make you go to all this trouble?" He had to know.

[hosannas_of_anguish]

"Never any fun from these things." He half teased as he leaned up and wrote down the address of the warehouse, and of the man's house. Yeah, he really doesn't like this fucker. To have those details and hand them over to the cops.

No honor among thieves.

"He always called me Ichabod. I take exception to being called the name the brats in grade school called me, by a man who doesn't even know how to read above a third grade reading level." The man probably could read but Crane will always attack ones brain first. "He also attacked my boys more than once. I am sure you noticed their loyalty. It is only fair I return it in kind."

[tinstar]

They saved all the fun for the field and the bullshit that could happen out there. Raylan knew there was plenty, and gave Crane a little curl of his lips anyway. At the answer, Raylan bobbed his head with a facial equivalent of a shrug.

"I've heard people do worse for less," he said reasonably as he pushed off the table and collected the paperwork. "Had a guy string up another guy for insulting his dog." To say something of 'crazy'.

"Stay here, I'll be right back." Indicated with a finger, Raylan sauntered out of the office and just a minute later came back, pulling his thigh length duster on. "Do you need to set something up or can we be Avon and just knock on his door?"

Not that Raylan was big on knocking.

[hosannas_of_anguish]

The field would be a trip, maybe Jonathan would turn that big brain towards doing some good if it was fun enough.

"We all have something that makes us petty, it is human nature." He spoke with a shrug, sitting back as he motioned for Raylan to do as he wanted. "I cleared my whole calendar for this." Which is a lie, he's only been out for two days, he hasn't had time to get plans. He's not really social but he wanted to see the bastard pay. Plus anyone who claims to be 'dixie mafia' deserved to be taken down.

This from the last male heir of old southern gentry. The money was long gone, but that Keeny blood of his was too fucking proud to let someone poke fun at him now that he is a grown man. "Oh, U.S. Marshal Givens, we are Avon calling that mother fucker." He spoke as he grinned a little crooked at that. "Its quite a drive we may want to stop and get drinks, and snacks for the road."

Doing this over here. Months after the case in NYC

[hosannas_of_anguish]

When all was over and done with, Jonathan Crane returned to his mundane life, in his boring home town. His days and nights spent working and for once in his life sleeping since he was keeping himself to tired to run on the midnight oil alone. Work on the farm and manor was never ending, and work at the school was drudgery, he would have quit if it wasn't rewarding in its own way, and he still had a ways to go on paying off that lien. He'd never give Mrs Dove the satisfaction of buying the manor from under him.

Statesboro was close to Arlen, it was where Jon had sent Raylan and Malcolm to get a hotel, and where Jon went when he needed things, but, tonight, he had driven the other way. A little run down bar in Savannah. He was local enough to not need a hotel room. When your that local your there for one reason. And on the outskits? Yeah. That one reason for renting the room was what had the former professor walking into the low class honky tonk.

A lot of drug deals and black market dealings happened here, and yet, Crane wasn't here for that. In fact, his eyes scanned the room and somehow missed a ten gallon hat, no his eyes fell on a homely looking woman who was sitting looking dejected into a mug of beer. Bingo.

Making his way over, he tapped the stool next to her. "This seat taken, darlin'?" Oh yeah, with how hard he tried to hide that accent, even back home he knew it's power, not quiet the same as up north where a few words could get him in, no down here it made him less of an outsider, less of a city slicker, on the edge of the city. The woman shaking her head as he took a seat, offering his hand and his first name as they started to chat.

He was here for one reason. The most desperate always seem the most willing.

[tinstar]

New York would seem like long ago if Raylan didn't find himself in the Big Apple more and more often, on account of one well dressed profiler. The case they'd worked on was far off in his head though he didn't think about the case often, the not so good Doctor had gone through his head a few times over the months.

Of course, he was still stationed in Lexington and budding life or not, Raylan was still a Marshal who needed his job. The case he was on at the moment was kind of on hold, as things sometimes got when you were sitting on a place and waiting for someone to get back into the state and county.

That's what led Raylan to being in the same little rundown bar. He'd ordered bourbon and he was on his third by the time he spotted the unmistakable glasses. Raylan took a few minutes, let Crane get comfortable and assure himself that he wasn't crazy, before he went over to ruin Crane's pick up. Well, he had to finish his drink, didn't he?

Circling around to the homely woman's far side, Raylan slid in and looked over with a friendly smile. "Hey darlin', you're late, I thought you'd be here earlier," he said, directly to Crane with at least half an attempt to not let his face break into a full shit eating grin.

/rolls a 3

[hosannas_of_anguish]

The country had a way of being slow even for Marshals so, he could be waiting a few days, given its a weekend no less. The good doctor should have been paying attention but no. He was talking to the upset homely gal.

"What do you do?"
"Oh. I'm a doctor."
"A doctor! Wow."
"Mmmhmm, and what about you darlin'?"

Just as he asked it that ten gallon hat full of handsome slid in, and both the good doctor and the homely gal looked to him, Jonathan's eyes going wide, whose using his fucking toxin now? But, a bigger concern showed itself when the gal threw her drink in his face. A deep breath taken as she started slid off the stool and started to stomp off.

"Raylan... Long time." A napkin grabbed to clean his face, glasses thrown on the bar. "Asshole." It had to be said.

[tinstar]

As soon as the lady turned to throw her drink and walk off, Raylan couldn't help the grin that split his face. He'd take the name calling, and almost proudly. Yes, he was kind of an asshole, wasn't he.

"Crane. Surprised to see you in a place like this, lookin' for that," he said with a faint bob of his hat brim towards the exit and the lady who'd just stormed out it. "Things get boring at High School?"

Not that he was insinuating that Crane would sleep with his students but it was the country and Raylan wasn't a fool. It was, at least, possible out there, even if he never got that kind of vibe from Crane in the first place. But that only allowed him to more freely joke about it, with no real question of reality underneath.

[hosannas_of_anguish]

He was still trying to clean himself up. Man, this was his best dirty shirt. He was gonna have to do laundry now or go to class smelling like a fruity mixed drink. That grin got an almost playful roll of Crane's eyes.

Raylan was a fun kinda asshole, so he didn't lunge at him. "That is about as good as it gets when you look like I do, Raylan. Willing is willing. Don't give a shit outside of that. Woman, man, willing is willing." He repeated, part of his 'courting' was giving Granny more to roll over in her grave at him being worse than his mama without anyone realizing it. "Also, fuck you. The willing line is drawn at twenty five. Don't get my dick near anything under that line." Country was country and things happen, but he wouldn't be the one. Probably more than Raylan wanted, but he didn't seem mad, this was a game of chicken.

"Bright, with you?" Hey he could be hopeful, he might not get laid tonight but maybe a battle of wits could happen.

[tinstar]

Raylan wasn't aiming to start a fight, so he was glad to see Crane was amiable enough to a little humor. Made a lotta things easier.

Except the surprise of Crane openly admitting that he'd sleep with a guy. Not that Raylan could really give him any shit about it, but he was a little amazed at how comfortable Jon was saying it. Thankfully, he also supplied an easy thing to chuckle at. That was a line Raylan could agree with.

He shook his head at the question. "No, he's up in New York right now." The scotch glass turned in his fingers as he eyed Jon sidelong. Did Jon know? "We don't always work together but we are still resources to each other. Didn't your file say you were housed next to Martin Whitly?"

Because frankly, Raylan would love to know how Martin struck Crane. Maybe just to have someone to shit on him with.

[hosannas_of_anguish]

He saw no sense in being irritated, he would have done the same damn thing if their roles were reversed, except he would have played up the 'are you ashamed of me, baby darlin' on top of it. Just for that extra umph. Luckily, though it was Raylan that found him and despite smelling like a fruity daiquiri he didn't care too much. Hell, he motioned to the seat beside him in a silent offer of company.

"We might have to take this elsewhere if she goes and cries to one of those good old boys." He warned as if Raylan wouldn't know what a scorned country woman mighty say but he also didn't seem to care. "Shame, he's always quite fun. Not that you aren't, but diverse types of fun. I'm sure you understand." Few people could keep up with Jonathan Crane's mind, Malcolm Bright, and Martin Whitly sure could.

"Indeed, I did, we had group therapy a few times. He made me play Malcolm once, and no, don't tell Malcolm that. He'll think I have daddy issues worse than he does. And why, pray tell do you ask?" He asked as he motioned the bar tender over ordering more low shelf whiskey.

[tinstar]

Crane was very much more comfortable with the whole idea than Raylan was, despite his position with the New York Profiler. He loved Malcolm Bright without question, but he was still having trouble internally dealing with the shame of it all. But he took the gestured offer, sliding over to take the seat of the unlucky lady.

He glanced back at the door. "Nah. Plus, they start anything, I'm not drunk yet. I can handle 'em." He wasn't worried, and hell, he had his gun.

"Uh-huh," came his retort to Crane's answer, but he was still smiling, taking no offence what so ever. "I ask because I want to know what you think of the man. Current iteration, of course. What do you mean 'Made you play Malcolm'?"

[hosannas_of_anguish]

Crane was used to being an outcast, he's spent his life being drug through the dirt for every sin since birth. Anytime he lays down with a man, he knows Granny's spinning in her shallow grave, and that just does it for him. Lifting the drink once it was before him taking a sip before nodding.

Yes, let the strong man with the gun handle that shit. He learned that in New York. "Good to know. I work Monday, can't be showing up battered."

"Mmm." He made the noise he so often does before he starts to speak, something from deep in his bony chest. "Well, you see, whenever Malcolm and Martin spat and Martin has group, he manages to make whomever he views as easiest prey to play Malcolm while he talks out their problems. I believe, if memory serves, the meds were heavy then. That he wanted Malcolm to see things his way. To have an open mind and embrace their familiar bond. Saying no to Martin Whitly is a headache one does not want. Textbook psychopath all the way. It is easy to see how he had everyone fooled."

[tinstar]

"Make for a hellva teacher's lounge conversation," he grunted with an amused breath behind a sip of his drink, still smirking.

Raylan listened intently, eyebrows slowly crawling up his face the further on Jon got. He knew that Martin had problems but he didn't think they were quite that deep when it came to Malcolm. Letting out a low whistle, Raylan shook his head a little.

"I've only met him twice.. Second time was on purpose.. to punch him dead in his face. Too bad a few more wouldn't set him straight. I'd be first in line to take a few more shots. Probably not for the better though." He looked over.

"So what are you doin' out this way? I'd hardly call this a destination for vacation." Given the type of bar they were sitting in being one of the better ones in town, despite the vomit on the floor and the sawdust they're using to clean it up with.

[hosannas_of_anguish]

"Oh yes, 'Keeny got his ass handed to him again.' Always a blast, let me tell ya." He grumbled as he leaned on the bar taking a drink from the glass before him, but chuckled, a real almost hearty noise when Raylan spoke of punching Martin.

"Good man, someone should. I used to think I suffered not having a father, but meeting Martin Whitly, no, I turned out as well I could in my situation. I'm certain your father was no winner either. I saw those looks you gave me in the car." He might be forgetful at times but not when it came to reading people. "My point, someone should beat his ass for Bright."

Taking another drink, he looked right at Raylan, making eye-contact. "I was aimin' to get laid, but some jackass put the brakes on that." Someone thought highly of himself despite having low esteem about his looks, he knew how to fish for a good night.

[tinstar]

"Well you're young," Raylan logiced out with a bob of his head and a lift of his glass that hovered there as he finished before he took a drink. "You'll find another willin' body, I'm sure."

Once the drink was down, he huffed a breath. "Yeah, Arlo was.. something alright. A war vet drunk and wife beater with bipolar disorder. Real hoot to be around," he said dryly. "But he died after getting shanked in prison. Best we can hope for is Martin to go the same way."

And frankly, he'd happily be first in line.

"You know he almost got Malcolm killed, last time a case took me up there. Some psycho thought he'd finish what Martin started or some shit." Clearly, he was disgusted by the idea. But it wasn't talking about Arlo, and that was what was important.