What utter bullshit-[Raylan scoffs and shakes his head a little, emptying his glass in one go and grabbing the bottle to pour himself another few fingers as he lets Collins go on. His eyes narrow a little, lips thinning as Collins gets around to a tired trope that Raylan has heard more than enough in his life that's given a double punch at the very last question. More than enough from people self proclaiming themselves one word action verbs, accent or not.]

You mean wayward assholes. I rustle wayward assholes, though if you'd like to call the class you're in as cattle, that's your prerogative. I find it a bit diminutive myself, but that's your bread and butter.

I don't understand you, that's at least true, but there's no logic or insanity that's gonna get me around to the point of view that killin' innocent people is 'natural' or right. That's got nothin' to do with you, or the box you put yourself in. I am the way I am because of people like you, think that everyone else's life around you doesn't mean shit unless it's makin' you feel better or lettin' you get out whatever made you this way.

Murderers ain't born, Collins. They're made. And that's a point that doesn't matter an iota when I have to pull my gun and put a man down.