Sure, it's serious, but this is an actual heart to heart. Roman clicks his tongue to mull it over, already feeling squirrely, but his drink is poured so he decides to stop hovering. Moving gives him an excuse not to talk right away, and he sits himself easily and comfortably so he's across from Raylan but not on the couch. Instead, he's seated right on the cheap motel coffee table. ]
Kind of not in the cards for me. [ A gentle reminder, even if he tucks his feet in tailor-style, and then allows his voice to soften. ]
[It was a show of faith. A hope of a show of faith, that - fucking two way street. Raylan didn't realize that he'd half held his breath or that his jaw edged towards tight under somewhat worried eyes as he watched Roman like he might lunge in for a kill shot.
But Roman didn't. He chose a kinder option and Raylan didn't quite know what to do with it. He swallowed thickly and looked back into his glass, awkwardly swirling it around.]
Anything can happen, Rome.. What real world would I get even to-..
[His lips sealed again and he shook his head as he pushes to his feet to pace towards the kitchen, suddenly too antsy to stay seated anymore.
It sounded stupid to say aloud for some reason, too.. daring of fate.]
Okay, so. You're here. You're not in Kentucky. Why worry about your NASCAR buddies drowning you in a kiddie pool filled with Bud Lite for liking cock when it's not going to happen right now? Like, what's the actual point? Your biggest worry should making sure I don't eat glue.
[Raylan scoffs shallowly at the phrasing as he pulls up at the island, where he poured himself another two fingers.
No, not get to enjoy himself. To be happy. He doesn't get to Be Happy, he knows that.]
It's not- [He lets another tight breath out of his nose. Jesus. What the hell was he doing.]
Fuck Kentucky. [There's a small thread of steel in the statement, but the majority of it was just being Tired.] It's everywhere. Men like me don't-
You're New York, where people mostly don't give a shit. Folks I deal with do.
[He frowned into his cup. He was still skirting Roman's base point.]
I don't know who here is the same kinda narrowminded asshole. I don't want trouble for either of us because of the choice. I don't want it underminin' everythin' else. For him or for me.
[ Roman watches the other carefully, taking things in. The tight breath from his nose, how he's pacing, too. Maybe they're more similar than they originally thought. He thinks for a moment--really thinks, visibly mulling what the other's saying for a moment. Leans on his knees from where he's sitting on top the cheap motel coffee table. ]
Do you know how many people are fucking each other on this barge? It's an honest question, before you start. I'm actually being serious.
[ It feels weird to say that, but he keeps his gaze on Raylan. ]
[Raylan's eyes dart over - he would have absolutely thought about starting if Roman hadn't added that extra reassurance. But his tone when he answered wasn't shitty or tight. They were having an actual conversation now.]
No. Even of the people that I'm familiar with, I'm only aware of a few. But a place like this.. Isolated. Whatever I would guess is still gonna be low.
[He wasn't sure what Roman's point was going to be.]
[ Roman's tittering giggle bounces off of the walls with how sharp and sudden it is, and after a brief moment, he pivots his body so he can lay down directly on the coffee table, grunting as he lowers himself and stares up at the ceiling. ]
Alright, so. Ballpark, roughly what? 80 people on the ship. Give or take. About a third are people that like to fuck.
Wanna take a gamble on how many are boy-girl?
[ Roman really has been paying attention, despite what half the ship and he himself think. ]
What you're sayin' is that more people than not are- [He gestures with his hand, not quite yet ready to utter that all out loud to man he didn't wholly trust to not turn on him.]
And so there's no one to give a fuck but me, yeah sure.
[No, he got that. And it only made his self-loathing about it worse. He should be able to run this hurdle without tripping at the start, but here he was anyway, emptying yet another glass of numbing agent down his throat.
He'd been told he was Emotionally damaged before. This wasn't what Allison had meant but, it still applied. Unable to change shit. Unable to be what his partners needed or wanted.]
It's good for my back, fuck you. [ It's said almost automatically--you think he hasn't gotten those comments before? Even if it isn't actually good for his back, he's going to did t anyway. Free speech includes the right to sit in whatever fucked up position you want. He shifts so he's lying down entirely on his side like it's a bed as a quiet fuck you to even being asked that question. ]
But yeah, I'm saying that. Can I like, actually ask you something? For real?
[ He hasn't actually looked at Raylan, just the ceiling, but his gaze does finally slide over, lips slightly parted, looking at him expectantly. ]
[It was a good thing that Roman weighed like 40 pounds soaking wet, and doubly so that the coffee table was sturdy.
Raylan hummed in response to the first, one eyebrow lifting over an unimpressed pull of his lips but his eyes didn't move back over to Roman until he added the 'For real' part on.]
Sure, shoot. [The trepidation that he'd worn so boldly had ebbed off into something less wound, more true. Hell, they were already knee deep, no backing up or undoing it now.]
Why are you giving a shit about what other people think about this when you don't when it's something else? Why care what opinions Billy-Joe-Bob at the shitty dive bar back by your little holler has about you sticking it in someone's ass? If his opinion on your hat is irrelevant, why is his opinion on you sucking dick suddenly important? You're a beast, you're on top of your game, and you're good at what you do. Who gives a shit about Local Priest John-Paul-Joseph or Meth Head number 42 has to say?
[ He hasn't moved the entire time, staring at the ceiling, quite content in laying down on the table. At this point it's a matter of principal. ]
[Raylan stayed silent for a long moment, watching Roman with a hint of a curl to his lips. He was actually proud of the man - Nary a jizz comment and his point was solid.]
'Cause his opinion on my hat isn't likely to end in my gettin' my ass beat or worse out in the parking lot. That's the difference.
People get murdered for where they stick their dick in Kentucky. You might find a few pockets where it's safer, up in Louisville maybe, but everywhere else? [Raylan shook his head.] It's dangerous.
Now I don't think anything like that'll happen here, but.. the instinct to protect, both myself and James.. I can't just set that aside casually.
If I start killin' homophobes and bigots, I'm gonna end up with a larger body count than I've already got and a metric ton of paperwork. Gettin' my ass beat isn't a justifiable reason to shoot someone. Though it is a federal crime to assault a federal officer.
[He couldn't help but smile a little.]
Thank you, Ru Paul.
I think the answer to your question, specifically, is Norton, but I get your point. We're all tryin' new things here, huh?
So try with John. Give him a chance to prove himself trustworthy with the rest of you. Because he ain't the same people you're used to dealin' with at home either, I can guarantee that. I'm not sure anyone on board is.
[ Roman's entire face twists into something that's halfway between a pout and a sneer mixed with a healthy glare. ]
Oh, fuck you, don't use the shit I'm trying to say and turn it against me.
[ And yet here he is, sitting ontop of Raylan's table but carefully slipping off of it with a surprising amount of graceful elegance. Instead of sitting up once his hips are past the table, however, he opts to half melts onto the floor, spring up and spins dramatically to make his way to the door. His knees crack audibly. Roman is unconcerned. ]
Oldest trick in the book, Walker Texas. I see you. And the next time you call me Ru Paul I get a free nard shot.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Sure, it's serious, but this is an actual heart to heart. Roman clicks his tongue to mull it over, already feeling squirrely, but his drink is poured so he decides to stop hovering. Moving gives him an excuse not to talk right away, and he sits himself easily and comfortably so he's across from Raylan but not on the couch. Instead, he's seated right on the cheap motel coffee table. ]
Kind of not in the cards for me. [ A gentle reminder, even if he tucks his feet in tailor-style, and then allows his voice to soften. ]
But yeah. Sure I do.
Cannot Feelings.exe
But Roman didn't. He chose a kinder option and Raylan didn't quite know what to do with it. He swallowed thickly and looked back into his glass, awkwardly swirling it around.]
Anything can happen, Rome.. What real world would I get even to-..
[His lips sealed again and he shook his head as he pushes to his feet to pace towards the kitchen, suddenly too antsy to stay seated anymore.
It sounded stupid to say aloud for some reason, too.. daring of fate.]
no subject
[ He puffs his cheeks up, shrugs elaborately. ]
Okay, so. You're here. You're not in Kentucky. Why worry about your NASCAR buddies drowning you in a kiddie pool filled with Bud Lite for liking cock when it's not going to happen right now? Like, what's the actual point? Your biggest worry should making sure I don't eat glue.
no subject
No, not get to enjoy himself. To be happy. He doesn't get to Be Happy, he knows that.]
It's not- [He lets another tight breath out of his nose. Jesus. What the hell was he doing.]
Fuck Kentucky. [There's a small thread of steel in the statement, but the majority of it was just being Tired.] It's everywhere. Men like me don't-
You're New York, where people mostly don't give a shit. Folks I deal with do.
[He frowned into his cup. He was still skirting Roman's base point.]
I don't know who here is the same kinda narrowminded asshole. I don't want trouble for either of us because of the choice. I don't want it underminin' everythin' else. For him or for me.
no subject
Do you know how many people are fucking each other on this barge? It's an honest question, before you start. I'm actually being serious.
[ It feels weird to say that, but he keeps his gaze on Raylan. ]
no subject
No. Even of the people that I'm familiar with, I'm only aware of a few. But a place like this.. Isolated. Whatever I would guess is still gonna be low.
[He wasn't sure what Roman's point was going to be.]
no subject
Alright, so. Ballpark, roughly what? 80 people on the ship. Give or take. About a third are people that like to fuck.
Wanna take a gamble on how many are boy-girl?
[ Roman really has been paying attention, despite what half the ship and he himself think. ]
no subject
[But it was followed with a sigh.]
What you're sayin' is that more people than not are- [He gestures with his hand, not quite yet ready to utter that all out loud to man he didn't wholly trust to not turn on him.]
And so there's no one to give a fuck but me, yeah sure.
[No, he got that. And it only made his self-loathing about it worse. He should be able to run this hurdle without tripping at the start, but here he was anyway, emptying yet another glass of numbing agent down his throat.
He'd been told he was Emotionally damaged before. This wasn't what Allison had meant but, it still applied. Unable to change shit. Unable to be what his partners needed or wanted.]
no subject
But yeah, I'm saying that. Can I like, actually ask you something? For real?
[ He hasn't actually looked at Raylan, just the ceiling, but his gaze does finally slide over, lips slightly parted, looking at him expectantly. ]
no subject
Raylan hummed in response to the first, one eyebrow lifting over an unimpressed pull of his lips but his eyes didn't move back over to Roman until he added the 'For real' part on.]
Sure, shoot. [The trepidation that he'd worn so boldly had ebbed off into something less wound, more true. Hell, they were already knee deep, no backing up or undoing it now.]
no subject
Why are you giving a shit about what other people think about this when you don't when it's something else? Why care what opinions Billy-Joe-Bob at the shitty dive bar back by your little holler has about you sticking it in someone's ass? If his opinion on your hat is irrelevant, why is his opinion on you sucking dick suddenly important? You're a beast, you're on top of your game, and you're good at what you do. Who gives a shit about Local Priest John-Paul-Joseph or Meth Head number 42 has to say?
[ He hasn't moved the entire time, staring at the ceiling, quite content in laying down on the table. At this point it's a matter of principal. ]
cw: homophobia
'Cause his opinion on my hat isn't likely to end in my gettin' my ass beat or worse out in the parking lot. That's the difference.
People get murdered for where they stick their dick in Kentucky. You might find a few pockets where it's safer, up in Louisville maybe, but everywhere else? [Raylan shook his head.] It's dangerous.
Now I don't think anything like that'll happen here, but.. the instinct to protect, both myself and James.. I can't just set that aside casually.
no subject
Sure you can't, but aren't you like the fastest draw at the OK corral? You're primed for handling this shit.
[ He's sitting up now at least. ]
If you're not gonna be true to yourself then who the fuck will be?
no subject
[He couldn't help but smile a little.]
Thank you, Ru Paul.
I think the answer to your question, specifically, is Norton, but I get your point. We're all tryin' new things here, huh?
So try with John. Give him a chance to prove himself trustworthy with the rest of you. Because he ain't the same people you're used to dealin' with at home either, I can guarantee that. I'm not sure anyone on board is.
no subject
Oh, fuck you, don't use the shit I'm trying to say and turn it against me.
[ And yet here he is, sitting ontop of Raylan's table but carefully slipping off of it with a surprising amount of graceful elegance. Instead of sitting up once his hips are past the table, however, he opts to half melts onto the floor, spring up and spins dramatically to make his way to the door. His knees crack audibly. Roman is unconcerned. ]
Oldest trick in the book, Walker Texas. I see you. And the next time you call me Ru Paul I get a free nard shot.
no subject
His eyes narrow a little at the snapping but he doesn't say anything for now.]
My nards are off the books, but I'll give you a free shot at my arm next time.
Say hello to John for me! [It's called out almost cheerily as Roman opens the door and heads out.]
no subject
[ He might as well be saying 'see you tomorrow' as he leaves, half waving behind him without looking. ]