TLV: Inbox

[tinstar]

Comments

[abrightboy]

Johann's Warden was Dorian. He doesn't have one now; I'll keep an eye on him. He likes making food for Florian.

[tinstar]

Ah. Makes sense.

If you get stabbed, I reserve the right to say I told you so.

[abrightboy]

Absolutely. I'll let you pour bourbon on it and tsk at me.

[tinstar]

It'll be shitty bourbon though, hope that's okay. And I know how to stitch folks up now.

[abrightboy]

Then I would definitely choose you for that.

[tinstar]

Let's hope you call me for different reasons.

Even if that's just to talk, or to call me over for company. You don't gotta shoulder everythin' on your own, alright?

[abrightboy]

[Malcolm nods.]

Raylan… can we do something fun some time?

[tinstar]

Yeah. Sure. Depends on what.

What's that.. that game you mentioned you do at home. Squash? That somethin' you have fun doin?

[abrightboy]

Oh my god yes. When I was six I wanted to play professionally, but that dream died when I got in trouble for playing in my mother’s solarium and she took my racket away for six months.

[tinstar]

Let's see about a little resurrection then. You'll have to teach me the rules.

And not laugh at my shorts.

[abrightboy]

You’re going to wear shorts? …What are the rules around photography?

[tinstar]

Forbidden. Y'all want that kind of view, you'll just have to catch me when I'm runnin'. No proof to be kept.

[abrightboy]

I can keep the secret of what your knees look like.

[tinstar]

Kind of you.

But let me reach out to Shaw, and I'll call you back later, alright? Take a deep breath, and we'll figure it out.

[abrightboy]

Okay. Thank you, Raylan. Thank you.