John Seed, the one that murdered Fitz with Carol Denning way back when? Preacherman, if I've heard right but that's about all I know off the top of my head. Why do you want me to dig into him?
I mean I can read him. I'm good at reading people like him. I'm a fucking maverick. That's not the problem. It's other stuff.
Where's your cabin? I'm gonna meet you. I need that flask, too.
Also this is warden inmate confidential.
Also Also if you tell anyone about this I'll cut up your dick and throw it overboard like they did in old pirate times. I'll make sure the pieces are so tiny the net you guys made won't cut it, and they'll be floating in space forever. You're going to be called Smoothparts Sherrif for the rest of your life.
Despite all the changes to Raylan's room, he's specifically kept his door the same - Sunbeaten red with the echo of an '8' from the motel underneath the now gleaming, new '7' that replaced it. It was unlocked, but Raylan was hoping that Roman would knock. He wanted to see which the man would choose. Another way to gauge things.
Roman's burying the urge to make a comment about how he's cruising for guys in motels and instead knocks. It's the exact same rhythm as the funeral dirge, but, hey. He's got some manners. When Raylan finally opens it Roman is leaning on the door frame, fingers wiggling in an effeminate wave. The smile on his face is dangerous. ]
[Raylan looked unimpressed and rolled his eyes as he opens the door wider in proper invitation.]
Can't you just say hello like a normal person? Jesus. Well c'mon in, [He invites, walking away barefoot on his new higher piled dark brown carpet that held his new living room, complete with a couch, space behind it holding a dining table to greet people before the kitchen.]
You're gonna have to say please if you want anythin' to drink. Close the door behind you.
[ He enters, though not without a half-turn-half shuffle for absolutely no reason, and almost immediately everything he wants to actually say and talk about is completely derailed by the decor. ]
Shut up. [Into the kitchen Raylan goes, getting down an extra glass and poured a few fingers, refilled his own cup and leaned against the counter top.]
Are you--are you fucking serious? 'Making a friend'--fuck off. Yeah, Raylan, this is my first day of Kindergarten and I held hands with the bible thumper and we spent all recess climbing on the monkey bars.
[ He downs the rest of his drink in response. He's getting defensive, and he can feel it. ]
This is the same guy that broke my nose, so duhh, I'm a little suspicious that hanging out with him doesn't involve him telling me how my brother killed himself 'cause of me or whatever. So I figure you can go out do your weird little cowboy warden thing and wave your feminine hips around, dig into his shit, and then tell me all about him so I can plan accordingly. Him him, not the college him, where we were friends.
[ The thought that they maybe are falling into old patterns because of their time in the previous flood has barely occurred to him. Or if it has, he's already buried it down deep. ]
[ Roman's gaze is fixed on Raylan, focused and surprisingly present. ]
Stuff. Fucking--normal stuff, like it was back in the other flood, or port, whatever they're called, like we were sort of weird friends still. Or are. Or--listen, are you just going to help me or not?
I don't trust anyone on this stupid ship and I want to play my cards right. I'm trying to come up with a game plan.
What kinda game plan? You wanna have somethin' to hold over him in case he hurts you and you want to lash out. To know what's safe to tell him, what's not? [He bobs his head.]
I get that impulse.
But what are you lookin' to know, specifically? I can't go to his warden without somethin' to aim for. What I would want to know likely isn't the same as what you wanna know.
[ That's exactly what he was planning to do, and Roman finds himself nodding. He forgets that Raylan is competent a lot of the time. ]
I don't know, leverage! [ He's already falling back into boardroom behaviour: he claps his hands to signify Raylan should hop-to, staring at him intently. ]
What kinda shit he doesn't want to get out, peek at his own file, read his stupid sparksnotes, see if he's secretly giving the admiral a blow job, something! He's way too confusing.
So you want me to go to his warden and tell her that 'Hey, Roman's gettin' real twitchy about connecting with John, what dirt can you give me on him?'
[The curl of his features suggested not.]
Roman, I get that you've never had a friend that wasn't leechin' somethin' off you before, but the way to handle this is not turnin' over rocks on him. It's talkin' to him directly. It's his choice what's shared with you and only fair. If Iris came to me askin' for the dish on you for the same reason, there wouldn't be a conversation.
I can't go diggin' at a man done nothin' wrong to me. Or to you. Your nose is fine and your relationship with him seems better for it. Maybe you need confusin'. New ground that you can't control. Teach you how to.. Let someone listen without gettin' all... [He gestures with his hand. ] The way you do.
[His index finger lifted, pointing at Roman with a lift of his eyebrows, a duck of his chin, eyes a little wider for the gesture.]
Exactly like that - like someone's stepped on your tail, sendin' your backhairs up. You turn into a vicious little Chihuahua. The way you did when I brought you your file that first night. Attackin' me as self defense, as a way to draw some kind of blood so you're not alone in your discomfort and sufferin'.
[ He's not denying it in the least. He doesn't think he can--he's not an idiot. Roman hasn't got a leg to stand on. He is, however, going to look visibly uncomfortable and cross his arms, defeated. ]
Excuse me for being worried that the crazy cultist might be too off the rails to talk to like a normal human being, Cowboy. [ You know what? He can't leave that alone. ]
A little too late for that, ain't it? You're already talkin' to him, and I'd argue you don't talk to anyone like a 'normal human bein', no offence. And that ain't even exactly a bad thing, if you learned how to tone down the sex jokes.
[ As for the rest- ]
Yeah. A lot of nasty little teeth that won't break bones, but aim to take out a chunk of flesh. [He looks into his glass, turning it a little thoughtfully.] And I know why. Kendall told me. About how your daddy saw things. Punishing the weaker ones for not bein' tough enough to stand up to the bigger one or win.
And that's not the way someone's world oughta work.
[ Roman's sneer is more toothless than he'd like to admit, and he has to think about how hunched his shoulders are to get them to smooth out, including uncrossing his arms. Raylan's hitting him with pinpoint accuracy. ]
Yeah, well. You know. [ To emphasize his nonexistent point, he mumbles something completely incomprehensible that sounds like it was once some sort of excuse that fades into the phrase 'schmeergh blergh' as he puts his hands on his hips.
Poignant. ]
Hey, we gonna talk about you and Flint sharing a room together?
[Surprisingly, Raylan understood the unintelligible noise. He'd made it himself a few times in his life.
The question had him looking up at Roman from under his eyebrows, a little tenser than he had been a moment before. There was still very much a fear of this being used against him. Would he look back on this and regret not shutting it down? If he wanted Roman to trust him, he recognized that he had to step out onto..
The two way street. God, it haunted him.]
Only if you keep all your jizz and faggot comments to yourself. I don't tend to tolerate disrespect about these kinda things.
[You can say whatever you want about him, but you don't get to trash talk the person he's with. He expect this to cause conflict, somewhere.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
At least that ones new.
When folks do this, makes me think you want something.
no subject
The last time I asked you to do something you got pissy. Thought I'd try a different approach.
no subject
What are you looking to have me do this time?
no subject
I need to know about John Seed. John Seed HERE not John Seed in that weird college port where you were Francis and I was boring.
no subject
John Seed, the one that murdered Fitz with Carol Denning way back when? Preacherman, if I've heard right but that's about all I know off the top of my head. Why do you want me to dig into him?
no subject
I mean I can read him. I'm good at reading people like him. I'm a fucking maverick. That's not the problem. It's other stuff.
Where's your cabin? I'm gonna meet you. I need that flask, too.
Also this is warden inmate confidential.
Also Also if you tell anyone about this I'll cut up your dick and throw it overboard like they did in old pirate times. I'll make sure the pieces are so tiny the net you guys made won't cut it, and they'll be floating in space forever. You're going to be called Smoothparts Sherrif for the rest of your life.
Anyway bye I'm coming over.
no subject
Uh-huh.
Deck 8, Cabin 7.
--
Despite all the changes to Raylan's room, he's specifically kept his door the same - Sunbeaten red with the echo of an '8' from the motel underneath the now gleaming, new '7' that replaced it. It was unlocked, but Raylan was hoping that Roman would knock. He wanted to see which the man would choose. Another way to gauge things.
no subject
Roman's burying the urge to make a comment about how he's cruising for guys in motels and instead knocks. It's the exact same rhythm as the funeral dirge, but, hey. He's got some manners. When Raylan finally opens it Roman is leaning on the door frame, fingers wiggling in an effeminate wave. The smile on his face is dangerous. ]
What up, fart jizz?
[ He's at least waiting to be let in.... ]
no subject
Can't you just say hello like a normal person? Jesus. Well c'mon in, [He invites, walking away barefoot on his new higher piled dark brown carpet that held his new living room, complete with a couch, space behind it holding a dining table to greet people before the kitchen.]
You're gonna have to say please if you want anythin' to drink. Close the door behind you.
no subject
Wow.
no subject
What's goin' on with you and Seed?
no subject
Nothing. Maybe. Sort of. [ His lips purse, and after a few beats he collapses onto the couch, all loose limbs and bone. ]
I think he's being nice to me. I think I'm being nice to him.
no subject
His head tilts a little and he ambles forward, grabbing a diner chair to sit on.]
Sounds like you're makin' a friend. You want anythin' from him? He want anythin' from you?
no subject
[ He downs the rest of his drink in response. He's getting defensive, and he can feel it. ]
This is the same guy that broke my nose, so duhh, I'm a little suspicious that hanging out with him doesn't involve him telling me how my brother killed himself 'cause of me or whatever. So I figure you can go out do your weird little cowboy warden thing and wave your feminine hips around, dig into his shit, and then tell me all about him so I can plan accordingly. Him him, not the college him, where we were friends.
[ The thought that they maybe are falling into old patterns because of their time in the previous flood has barely occurred to him. Or if it has, he's already buried it down deep. ]
I don't... hate it. But I want to cover my ass.
no subject
What do you guys talk about? Aside from Kendall killin' himself which we'll save for when you don't have somethin' else in your craw -
[That's a Big Fucking Thing, Roman and it was still on his list. But he knew what Roman was trying to cover his ass from. One question at a time.]
And when I'm more free with my whiskey.
no subject
Stuff. Fucking--normal stuff, like it was back in the other flood, or port, whatever they're called, like we were sort of weird friends still. Or are. Or--listen, are you just going to help me or not?
I don't trust anyone on this stupid ship and I want to play my cards right. I'm trying to come up with a game plan.
no subject
What kinda game plan? You wanna have somethin' to hold over him in case he hurts you and you want to lash out. To know what's safe to tell him, what's not? [He bobs his head.]
I get that impulse.
But what are you lookin' to know, specifically? I can't go to his warden without somethin' to aim for. What I would want to know likely isn't the same as what you wanna know.
no subject
I don't know, leverage! [ He's already falling back into boardroom behaviour: he claps his hands to signify Raylan should hop-to, staring at him intently. ]
What kinda shit he doesn't want to get out, peek at his own file, read his stupid sparksnotes, see if he's secretly giving the admiral a blow job, something! He's way too confusing.
no subject
[The curl of his features suggested not.]
Roman, I get that you've never had a friend that wasn't leechin' somethin' off you before, but the way to handle this is not turnin' over rocks on him. It's talkin' to him directly. It's his choice what's shared with you and only fair. If Iris came to me askin' for the dish on you for the same reason, there wouldn't be a conversation.
I can't go diggin' at a man done nothin' wrong to me. Or to you. Your nose is fine and your relationship with him seems better for it. Maybe you need confusin'. New ground that you can't control. Teach you how to.. Let someone listen without gettin' all... [He gestures with his hand. ] The way you do.
no subject
God. He's right. He hates that stupid folksy cowboy thing Raylan does so fucking much. And just--
--wait. ]
"The way I do?" I'm all ears, how exactly do I get all "the way I do?"
no subject
Exactly like that - like someone's stepped on your tail, sendin' your backhairs up. You turn into a vicious little Chihuahua. The way you did when I brought you your file that first night. Attackin' me as self defense, as a way to draw some kind of blood so you're not alone in your discomfort and sufferin'.
no subject
Excuse me for being worried that the crazy cultist might be too off the rails to talk to like a normal human being, Cowboy. [ You know what? He can't leave that alone. ]
Vicious chihuahua? Seriously?
no subject
[ As for the rest- ]
Yeah. A lot of nasty little teeth that won't break bones, but aim to take out a chunk of flesh. [He looks into his glass, turning it a little thoughtfully.] And I know why. Kendall told me. About how your daddy saw things. Punishing the weaker ones for not bein' tough enough to stand up to the bigger one or win.
And that's not the way someone's world oughta work.
no subject
Yeah, well. You know. [ To emphasize his nonexistent point, he mumbles something completely incomprehensible that sounds like it was once some sort of excuse that fades into the phrase 'schmeergh blergh' as he puts his hands on his hips.
Poignant. ]
Hey, we gonna talk about you and Flint sharing a room together?
cw; slurs
The question had him looking up at Roman from under his eyebrows, a little tenser than he had been a moment before. There was still very much a fear of this being used against him. Would he look back on this and regret not shutting it down? If he wanted Roman to trust him, he recognized that he had to step out onto..
The two way street. God, it haunted him.]
Only if you keep all your jizz and faggot comments to yourself. I don't tend to tolerate disrespect about these kinda things.
[You can say whatever you want about him, but you don't get to trash talk the person he's with. He expect this to cause conflict, somewhere.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
Cannot Feelings.exe
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
cw: homophobia
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)