Raylan narrowed his eyes, trying to decide if Fitz was fucking with him or not.

"Sure, why not," he starts with a breath and shift on his seat atop the standing washing machine, one boot idly thumping against the side. "Killin' something is how we survive. Bein' eaten is how we feed predators. I'm gonna kill those chickens because I want a good, fried meal. If I didn't, I starve. So I'm fine with the chicken's bein' some folks introductions to how food gets on their plates. Metaphorically speaking."