“How did I know? Oh. I saw you. I was kind of a downer on that planet, so I didn’t want to bother you, but I did want to say ‘congratulations’,” Malcolm admits. “A gravy boat is a particularly wedding-y present, right?”
"You could have come said hello after it was over." When they were drunkenly dancing and jumping over fires like fools. Lean fingers reach out and drag the tray closer to him. Pulling one of the stools under his ass, Raylan starts picking at the goods - a piece of cheese popped in his mouth as he pours a cup of coffee.
"I mean-" He clears his mouth. "Most people gift like. Blenders or knife sets, in our time but. I am Southern and I do like gravy. So it'll get used and cared for and it is a pretty little trinket." Raylan gives him a heartier smile, the promise of coffee and food almost visibly perking him up, now that they've had enough polite conversation to justify the indulgence.
"It's a perfect wedding present. Hellva side project to give me though, havin' to look up how to take care of it properly."
"I have gotta say, I've heard a lotta weird questions about the South and that's a new one. Practical one though." Smarter than most. "The answer is in the magic of gravy because the correct answer is both. But it's better over bread. Toasted if it ain't biscuits. The north just really needs to get on the white gravy train, it goes on so many things. Thin enough, I think you'd like it, if you're looking for something that's not.." His head bobs a little. "Loud."
"I actually get nauseated at just the thought of eating gravy, but now you've made me curious, so if you ever have it, let me know. I want to come and smell it," Malcolm tells him in all seriousness.
"I'm glad I could do such good works for the advancement of gravy in the general opinion," he says, smile still pulled. "I'll give you a ring. Gotta have it fresh though. Reheats well enough but it's better fresh. Pork is hard to get my hands on though and we'll bug Gonou for some biscuits. He's found a fantastic recipe and the last batch he brought me? Mm," he grunts in that way men do when they're openly daydreaming about Grandma's Sunday meal.
"We'll find somethin' that you can pick at, just in case."
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"I mean-" He clears his mouth. "Most people gift like. Blenders or knife sets, in our time but. I am Southern and I do like gravy. So it'll get used and cared for and it is a pretty little trinket." Raylan gives him a heartier smile, the promise of coffee and food almost visibly perking him up, now that they've had enough polite conversation to justify the indulgence.
"It's a perfect wedding present. Hellva side project to give me though, havin' to look up how to take care of it properly."
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Like he'd know. The real joke: he has no idea. He doesn't live in the same universe as marriage.
"You know, I have a question about gravy and the South."
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"Sure, shoot."
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"Is sausage gravy made of sausages or for sausages?"
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"I have gotta say, I've heard a lotta weird questions about the South and that's a new one. Practical one though." Smarter than most. "The answer is in the magic of gravy because the correct answer is both. But it's better over bread. Toasted if it ain't biscuits. The north just really needs to get on the white gravy train, it goes on so many things. Thin enough, I think you'd like it, if you're looking for something that's not.." His head bobs a little. "Loud."
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"We'll find somethin' that you can pick at, just in case."