“Not by half. No bathroom, no kitchenette, just the bedroom area and the couch really. I had doors to a fake veranda, but they weren’t real either. It was like a very visually detailed wall.”
He opens said doors as he speaks, savoring the way the air feels like it’s outside even if they aren’t. “When I got here I actually had my childhood bedroom. That was… less than ideal.”
"I can imagine so. Childhood bedrooms are tricky. If it were me, I might've burnt the place down."
Not a light thing to say but surprisingly honest. Raylan takes a seat and pulls the glasses closer, popping the cork in his bottle and pouring them out two fingers each. The bottle was set back down and looked no more emptier for the consumption.
"This suits you better. The space. The view." Even if it was fake but some things had to be dealt with, all pros and cons and the balance of it all.
Neal laughs softly. “I almost lost it on Malcolm when he came in and started asking me who Danny Brooks was.”
He sits down at the little wrought iron table, gesturing for Raylan to join him and setting a pair of glasses between them. “It was me. My name when I was in WITSEC.”
Neal flashes Raylan a crooked little smile. “Maybe that’s why I have an affinity for marshals, but none of the guys in suits who showed up at our apartment were as pretty as you.”
Yeah, he’d never mentioned he had been under the care of the US Marshals Service, but it’s out on the table now.
Neal studies the view. “I grew up in St. Louis. But I’m pretty sure my heart belongs to New York.”
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no subject
He opens said doors as he speaks, savoring the way the air feels like it’s outside even if they aren’t. “When I got here I actually had my childhood bedroom. That was… less than ideal.”
no subject
Not a light thing to say but surprisingly honest. Raylan takes a seat and pulls the glasses closer, popping the cork in his bottle and pouring them out two fingers each. The bottle was set back down and looked no more emptier for the consumption.
"This suits you better. The space. The view." Even if it was fake but some things had to be dealt with, all pros and cons and the balance of it all.
no subject
He sits down at the little wrought iron table, gesturing for Raylan to join him and setting a pair of glasses between them. “It was me. My name when I was in WITSEC.”
Neal flashes Raylan a crooked little smile. “Maybe that’s why I have an affinity for marshals, but none of the guys in suits who showed up at our apartment were as pretty as you.”
Yeah, he’d never mentioned he had been under the care of the US Marshals Service, but it’s out on the table now.
Neal studies the view. “I grew up in St. Louis. But I’m pretty sure my heart belongs to New York.”