She is indeed there, cell phone in hand - it's quieter and more tinny than the CD player, but it's also more portable.
"How long have you had a cat?" she asks, bending to give it a little scritch behind the ears. "It's kind of weird how everybody has pets here, isn't it? Don't you worry about something bad happening?"
"Couple'a weeks. He was Tim's. Name's Pumpkin." Being an Orange Tabby, one could guess why.
"And I do worry. Constantly, as a matter of fact. But that doesn't get him off the ship, either way. Least here, he's comfortable." Comfortable and friendly; Pumpkin arched up into the touch and rubbed against her hand with a little meow.
"And he doesn't make a mess." IE no pissing in his boots.
"Well, then, where'd he come from? Was he in port? I have two rats, and they were bred here, which is just-- ridiculous, but the damage was already done, so--"
Raylan shrugs as he toes off his boots and pads into his kitchen, pulling down a glass and a bottle.
"I asked B, but best he could guess is that he managed to get on board durin' one of the ports but nothin' beyond that. I got no idea what his story is. I'm not normally a pet person either way. Pets require you to be home to care for 'em. You want a drink?"
"Ah," he sounds, one finger lifting as he pads towards his refrigerator. "You're lucky to have chosen tonight. After the raid on a few poacher camps, I managed to snag a bottle for myself amid what I got back for the bar. Hope you like red." Considering that she was fucking Red, Raylan assumed so.
He continued as he pulled out a half full wine bottle and got a mug down for her - Sorry Misty, the new apartment did not come with glassware.
"Bein' a pet person means you got a steady place to stay and see it everyday. My job doesn't really let me do that, so its better if I don't." The US Marshal's mug was pushed towards her as he switched bottles and refilled his own.
"That an' I'm used to dealin' with aggressive dogs trained to take the nuts of the closest squirrel with anything resembling a badge."
Spam
"How long have you had a cat?" she asks, bending to give it a little scritch behind the ears. "It's kind of weird how everybody has pets here, isn't it? Don't you worry about something bad happening?"
Re: Spam
"And I do worry. Constantly, as a matter of fact. But that doesn't get him off the ship, either way. Least here, he's comfortable." Comfortable and friendly; Pumpkin arched up into the touch and rubbed against her hand with a little meow.
"And he doesn't make a mess." IE no pissing in his boots.
Spam
She shrugs.
"Somebody had to take care of them."
no subject
"I asked B, but best he could guess is that he managed to get on board durin' one of the ports but nothin' beyond that. I got no idea what his story is. I'm not normally a pet person either way. Pets require you to be home to care for 'em. You want a drink?"
no subject
Another scritch for Pumpkin the cat.
"I am a pet person. Not one of those weirdos who thinks they're better than people, but they sure are less complicated than people a lot of the time."
no subject
He continued as he pulled out a half full wine bottle and got a mug down for her - Sorry Misty, the new apartment did not come with glassware.
"Bein' a pet person means you got a steady place to stay and see it everyday. My job doesn't really let me do that, so its better if I don't." The US Marshal's mug was pushed towards her as he switched bottles and refilled his own.
"That an' I'm used to dealin' with aggressive dogs trained to take the nuts of the closest squirrel with anything resembling a badge."