If you set it down, it needs sat on the brim and onto somethin' flat. Mess up my brim and it takes a days worth of work to get it shaped back the way it's suppose'ta.
And you gotta have it back to me tomorrow.
Shit, now I gotta figure out what I'm gonna be for it.
You don't get my favorite overshirt either but I got some decent options.
[His hat was the most expensive thing he owned, aside from his gun, which was still cheaper.]
For a guy that's used to havin' high end things, this is makin' me think that maybe you don't take care of your stuff with the best of care. You're gonna need to make an exception tonight. ... And I get to see you wear it first.
[ Roman's voice is pointed, if flat: ] I was taught to take care of my things, thanks, but Connor's the one that owns the ranch and the horses, not me. I live in a civilized part of the world where the only time cowboy hats are a thing is when you're dressing up for the Kentucky Derby to drink mint juleps and pretending you know enough about horses to bet on them before they're sent to the glue factory.
If you have to see me in it first then I'm absolutely raiding the rest of your closet. I have flannel, it's just Burberry. [ And like 800 dollars. ]
Uh-huh. Ignoring the parts of Civilized Kentucky that make it their business, Derby or not.
Burberry flannel doesn't count; flannels supposed to take some abuse. But the door's open and I'll pull a few shirts that are less beaten than the rest. What're you wearin' under it? Tshirt? Aim for a darker one; white looks bad.
Great, I'll be over. You know, I'm trying to ignore the fact that you, of all people, are giving me fashion advice, but it's getting harder and harder to pretend that isn't what this is.
[Opening his door, Raylan hangs up the phone, lips pulled into a quirk.]
I'd argue I am a stud. [He didn't feel the need to tell Roman that Stud was the name for a horse that was bred out for foals.]
I am, and there's a stark difference between a hillbilly and a southerner. That and Harlan doesn't accept folk that ain't born in, no matter how long they're in there, so I'm an expert by virtue of where I was born and raised. Can't get more hillbilly than Mountain folk.
That's like--no, hold on. [He had been making a beeline for the closet, but this is way more important. He has his hands on his hips, rather effeminate. ]
Hillbilly and southerners are the same thing. Unless you're a fancy republican, and I didn't see you at the last convention we had.
[Raylan had to openly laugh as he closed the door and ambled towards the bedroom with a wagging finger towards Roman.]
They're not. Southerners look down on hillbillies as much as the rest of the country. We're a lower lifeform unless we break our backs to prove otherwise, and even the individual basis only goes so far. Folks in Lexington? Southerners. Folks from spit on the map no where with a community problem around money and pill abuse? Hillbillies. We set cars on fire. Southerners don't. They're more Civilized than the rest of us; it's all a fuckin' game. Keeping Up with the Jones, except the Jones's are the North and everyone else.
cw casual racism/homophobia, standard royco bullshit
[ Roman's lower lip juts out into a pout as he listens, though it's hard to tell if it's because he thinks Raylan's full of shit or that he's actually listening.
It's a bit difficult for him, trying to parse this sort of thing, but he's genuinely trying to. Sort of. It's not exactly in his social sphere to actually, actively give a shit about things like this. Just give him a minute to parse it into something he can get and relate it to: he follows Raylan, still with his hands on his hips. ]
Hillbillies are the ones we actively target on ATN. The guys scared of the gays and race relations and liberal media so we can pump 'em full of drugs and shit they don't want. Southerners...I guess are just normos?
Yup. [The P was popped. Just another day in the ignorant shit parade.] Well, sort of. They've still got inclinations that your type of content speaks to. Republicans. Still different, all 'States rights' and 'My freedoms as long as you agree with them or we'll lynch you'..
[He led them into the bedroom to where he had about 7 different prints of plaid flannel out on display. He gestures at them as he continues.]
These are my very best poor man hillbilly outer layers. No one wears them buttoned up; it's layers against the cold at best.
[ Roman's starting to feel like an idiot, so he's glad the subject's switched, if only by a little. He whistles appreciatively, starting to run his hands down the fabric, actually examining things. The print, the feel, the colour, how heavy or light the fabric is.
He's actually putting a lot of thought into this. ]
Not buttoned. I can get behind that. [ His lips pull into a frown, clearly thinking as he picks up a green one and holds it up. ]
Buttons are so restrictive. [ That's from someone who has almost never done the top buttons of his button-down, ever. It's called style. ]
If I do this, are you gonna make it weird? Like some bonding thing? Or can I just have the hat and wear it for you first just so I can not commit social suicide at Dorian's shindig?
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I fully realize this hat is your only friend in existence but you know it's just a hat, right?
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[He sighs.]
I'm not sayin' yes until you swear. [Ya know, like a child.]
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And you gotta have it back to me tomorrow.
Shit, now I gotta figure out what I'm gonna be for it.
You don't get my favorite overshirt either but I got some decent options.
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It's a hat, how hard can it be to re-shape it? It's a hat, it's just a cylinder for your fucking head, jesus.
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[His hat was the most expensive thing he owned, aside from his gun, which was still cheaper.]
For a guy that's used to havin' high end things, this is makin' me think that maybe you don't take care of your stuff with the best of care. You're gonna need to make an exception tonight. ... And I get to see you wear it first.
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If you have to see me in it first then I'm absolutely raiding the rest of your closet. I have flannel, it's just Burberry. [ And like 800 dollars. ]
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Burberry flannel doesn't count; flannels supposed to take some abuse. But the door's open and I'll pull a few shirts that are less beaten than the rest. What're you wearin' under it? Tshirt? Aim for a darker one; white looks bad.
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Don't tell anyone that.
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[ Knock knock, he's here. And he's continuing on even as Raylan opens the door and he hangs up: ]
Aren't you a hillbilly yourself? Of course you'd speak their language. [ No animosity: just ignorance. ]
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I'd argue I am a stud. [He didn't feel the need to tell Roman that Stud was the name for a horse that was bred out for foals.]
I am, and there's a stark difference between a hillbilly and a southerner. That and Harlan doesn't accept folk that ain't born in, no matter how long they're in there, so I'm an expert by virtue of where I was born and raised. Can't get more hillbilly than Mountain folk.
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Hillbilly and southerners are the same thing. Unless you're a fancy republican, and I didn't see you at the last convention we had.
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They're not. Southerners look down on hillbillies as much as the rest of the country. We're a lower lifeform unless we break our backs to prove otherwise, and even the individual basis only goes so far. Folks in Lexington? Southerners. Folks from spit on the map no where with a community problem around money and pill abuse? Hillbillies. We set cars on fire. Southerners don't. They're more Civilized than the rest of us; it's all a fuckin' game. Keeping Up with the Jones, except the Jones's are the North and everyone else.
cw casual racism/homophobia, standard royco bullshit
It's a bit difficult for him, trying to parse this sort of thing, but he's genuinely trying to. Sort of. It's not exactly in his social sphere to actually, actively give a shit about things like this. Just give him a minute to parse it into something he can get and relate it to: he follows Raylan, still with his hands on his hips. ]
Hillbillies are the ones we actively target on ATN. The guys scared of the gays and race relations and liberal media so we can pump 'em full of drugs and shit they don't want. Southerners...I guess are just normos?
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[He led them into the bedroom to where he had about 7 different prints of plaid flannel out on display. He gestures at them as he continues.]
These are my very best poor man hillbilly outer layers. No one wears them buttoned up; it's layers against the cold at best.
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He's actually putting a lot of thought into this. ]
Not buttoned. I can get behind that. [ His lips pull into a frown, clearly thinking as he picks up a green one and holds it up. ]
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I'd suggest a grey under that one. And hey- [He pulls the hat off his head and holds it out.] Let's see if this rests on your ears or not.
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If I do this, are you gonna make it weird? Like some bonding thing? Or can I just have the hat and wear it for you first just so I can not commit social suicide at Dorian's shindig?
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Can't lend it too you if you look like an asshole from the neck up in it.
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