"That's more intelligent parentin' than what I'm used to seein," he admits, with a bob of his head.
"But that's lucky as hell. On all accounts. And then you became an erotic writer and came to a space ship to lure innocent law enforcement officers into askin' you for pot brownies." His smirk curls.
"I'd tell you about where I come from, but no part of it is fun or pretty. 'Sides, no one's around to back any of that up, it's all paperwork now. It's everythin' else that I think's much more interestin'. You know I was a teacher for a few years?"
Speaking of brownies, Maggie will take one for herself and then pass the
bag to Raylan.
"You can tell me, or not tell me, whatever you want. I don't need fun and
pretty, but I also don't need to go prying into things you'd rather not
say." She's not pushy; she'd rather people tell her things in their own
time, not because they feel obligated to. "What did you teach?"
"Mm, I just don't want anyone thinkin' I'm vying for sympathy or kid gloves. Seems to be what people jump to when they find out."
Bag in hand, he fishes one out and smells it briefly.
"Firearm trainin' and safety. I've been shootin' since I was about ten - rats and the like - and its a proficiency that kinda comes with being raised in Kentucky hollers. Granted, I was teachin' because I'd been pulled off field work; it was a punishment but.. A good, if quiet few years. How.. how powerful are these? Never done edibles before.."
That being said, he wasn't shy about taking a bite.
"I don't do kid gloves," Maggie tells him. "Not when they're not wanted or
warranted. Sympathy, sure, but I can move past it before it turns into
pity."
She considers the question. "You could probably manage one brownie, but
definitely don't eat more than that without waiting awhile to see
how hard it hits you. You might even want to start with half of one. I
mostly made this batch for Sweeney, so they have a kick to them."
And firearms training ties in nicely to his shooting competition awhile
ago. "I took self defense classes fairly young, for
precious-only-child-of-billionaires reasons. Firearms later, but I did
have to pass basic marksmanship tests for my journalist's license. I'm not
field licensed, or I'd have passed extensive marksmanship tests."
Made it for Sweeney? Yeah, he's definitely breaking this bad boy in half and setting the other half on the coffee table. If he wants to go back to the rest of it, he can but there's never any extracting a high from a body without letting it run it's course.
"Knowin' how to hit a target is important. Guns're somethin' always been a part of my life. Somethin' every young man and woman are expected to know how to handle with some proficiency. Much like Texas, everyone's got one." He looks the brownie over and finally takes a bite.
"If I end up dancin' naked on the sand, I'm blamin' you," he warns with a cheekful of brownie. "Speakin' of, do you like music? I got a boombox, if we want somethin' for the background."
Maggie laughs as he immediately sets half the brownie down, but she doesn't
blame him a bit. She's starting with half herself.
"Guns got a lot more ubiquitous during the zombie uprising. Places that
were well armed beforehand did tend to make out a little better in those
first few years, though." There's been a couple decades for the rest of
the country to catch up.
"You have no idea how much I miss all the satellite radio stations I
got in my van; go ahead and put on some music." As for the rest of it,
"And I feel like you'd at least need to eat the whole brownie before things
progress as far as naked dancing on the beach."
"I bet Texas had a hellva time." It was a loaded statement by far - Texas was always a bit of a wild state, he couldn't imagine that they took the outbreak well or lasted long.
But he smiles as she gives her go-ahead and pushes to his feet with a chuckle. "Guess we'll find out, huh. It's been about twenty five years since I've done shit like this. Zero tolerance. Hold on."
Padding into the cabin, Raylan comes back with a boombox and a stack of cd's the rest of his brownie held in his teeth to free up a hand. Once he got both empty, he'd take another bite and gesture down at the CD's. "What kinda music you like? I'll warn you now, it's mostly country.. and Tom Petty. Some ZZ top too - I haven't really expanded my collection."
"Texas didn't have the worst time, but yeah, I imagine things got
interesting there." She devours her half a brownie without ceremony.
"Surprise me." Her taste in music is pretty broad, and somehow she's not
surprised a lot of Raylan's music is country. She doesn't care what they
listen to; she's sitting on a beach with someone she cares about, getting
mildly, pleasantly high. All music is good music.
"It's been one goddamn thing after another since the breach. You've
been a bright spot, though."
He hums a note and sits down, tucking the rest of the brownie into his cheeks before dusting his hands and shuffling though with an almost nostalgic clack clack of plastic on plastic. He finally settles on CCR and pops it into the boombox.
Born on the Bayou starts wafting out of the speakers that Raylan turns down a little so that it's not overpowering them having a conversation. The whiskey is picked up and he sits back with a smile, eyes crinkling over it.
"Pretty sure you're one of the two that thinks that, but I'll take it. A nice change of pace, if I'm bein' honest."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
"But that's lucky as hell. On all accounts. And then you became an erotic writer and came to a space ship to lure innocent law enforcement officers into askin' you for pot brownies." His smirk curls.
"I'd tell you about where I come from, but no part of it is fun or pretty. 'Sides, no one's around to back any of that up, it's all paperwork now. It's everythin' else that I think's much more interestin'. You know I was a teacher for a few years?"
no subject
Speaking of brownies, Maggie will take one for herself and then pass the bag to Raylan.
"You can tell me, or not tell me, whatever you want. I don't need fun and pretty, but I also don't need to go prying into things you'd rather not say." She's not pushy; she'd rather people tell her things in their own time, not because they feel obligated to. "What did you teach?"
no subject
Bag in hand, he fishes one out and smells it briefly.
"Firearm trainin' and safety. I've been shootin' since I was about ten - rats and the like - and its a proficiency that kinda comes with being raised in Kentucky hollers. Granted, I was teachin' because I'd been pulled off field work; it was a punishment but.. A good, if quiet few years. How.. how powerful are these? Never done edibles before.."
That being said, he wasn't shy about taking a bite.
no subject
"I don't do kid gloves," Maggie tells him. "Not when they're not wanted or warranted. Sympathy, sure, but I can move past it before it turns into pity."
She considers the question. "You could probably manage one brownie, but definitely don't eat more than that without waiting awhile to see how hard it hits you. You might even want to start with half of one. I mostly made this batch for Sweeney, so they have a kick to them."
And firearms training ties in nicely to his shooting competition awhile ago. "I took self defense classes fairly young, for precious-only-child-of-billionaires reasons. Firearms later, but I did have to pass basic marksmanship tests for my journalist's license. I'm not field licensed, or I'd have passed extensive marksmanship tests."
no subject
"Knowin' how to hit a target is important. Guns're somethin' always been a part of my life. Somethin' every young man and woman are expected to know how to handle with some proficiency. Much like Texas, everyone's got one." He looks the brownie over and finally takes a bite.
"If I end up dancin' naked on the sand, I'm blamin' you," he warns with a cheekful of brownie. "Speakin' of, do you like music? I got a boombox, if we want somethin' for the background."
no subject
Maggie laughs as he immediately sets half the brownie down, but she doesn't blame him a bit. She's starting with half herself.
"Guns got a lot more ubiquitous during the zombie uprising. Places that were well armed beforehand did tend to make out a little better in those first few years, though." There's been a couple decades for the rest of the country to catch up.
"You have no idea how much I miss all the satellite radio stations I got in my van; go ahead and put on some music." As for the rest of it, "And I feel like you'd at least need to eat the whole brownie before things progress as far as naked dancing on the beach."
no subject
But he smiles as she gives her go-ahead and pushes to his feet with a chuckle. "Guess we'll find out, huh. It's been about twenty five years since I've done shit like this. Zero tolerance. Hold on."
Padding into the cabin, Raylan comes back with a boombox and a stack of cd's the rest of his brownie held in his teeth to free up a hand. Once he got both empty, he'd take another bite and gesture down at the CD's. "What kinda music you like? I'll warn you now, it's mostly country.. and Tom Petty. Some ZZ top too - I haven't really expanded my collection."
no subject
"Texas didn't have the worst time, but yeah, I imagine things got interesting there." She devours her half a brownie without ceremony.
"Surprise me." Her taste in music is pretty broad, and somehow she's not surprised a lot of Raylan's music is country. She doesn't care what they listen to; she's sitting on a beach with someone she cares about, getting mildly, pleasantly high. All music is good music.
"It's been one goddamn thing after another since the breach. You've been a bright spot, though."
no subject
Born on the Bayou starts wafting out of the speakers that Raylan turns down a little so that it's not overpowering them having a conversation. The whiskey is picked up and he sits back with a smile, eyes crinkling over it.
"Pretty sure you're one of the two that thinks that, but I'll take it. A nice change of pace, if I'm bein' honest."