multiversallogs

Who: Raylan Givens and you
What: Checking in
Where: Sundry points
When: Shundi(ish)
Notes:
Warnings: none so far

If it were up to Raylan, he'd probably never take a day off. However, it is not up to him, as Norrington so carefully pointed out, and every now and then he needs to do something other than work.

Usually, this would mean jogging, target practice, and drinking, roughly in that order, but since the sky nearly fell in, Raylan hasn't had a free moment to check on much of anyone. (Much like home, the bigger the mess, the bigger the pile of paperwork, it seems.) He doesn't know a great many people in Baedal beyond exchanging pleasantries, but could stand to check in.

Instead of calling, though, like a normal person, he just wanders around people's normal haunts and places of business so that he can see they're in one piece. Mainly Mog Hill, but he's not averse to going farther. He may even end up at the Vault, briefly, which is arguably more trouble than just texting a person.

Raylan isn't, and never has been, one to do things the easy way.

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"Thanks, and sorry," Sometimes she forgets how young she is, and his second comment gets a laugh from her as well, "God, can you imagine? When it comes to party crashers, I'd say frog monsters are so much worse than frat boys and underage kids hoping they can get some free booze."

Not that she was ever on the other end of that equation. No sir.

"I suppose you'd avoid the risk of anyone being bored," he says, laughing. "Though you might get rid of the frog monsters easier."

"I dunno, I find punching them in the face works best for either option," The.... frat boys and the frog monsters, not the underage teens, that would just be a cruel (frat boys don't count as people, for the record).

"And no one is ever bored around me, hanging out with me is an endless adventures," Apparently she's just choosing to ignore the fact her life recently has mostly involved sulking around Barbara's house.

"You know, I've heard that about myself, but it's certainly not on purpose." As they come to the Apache, he asks, "Good adventures, or 'oh god, who's shooting at us' adventures?"

Steph pauses on the threshold and gives him her most innocent, quizical look. Which is entirely faked, for the record, "They aren't the same thing?"

Her sense of humour needs some work.

"Oh, my old boss would love you," he says, and holds the door for her. "Mainly because you'd be distracting him from my shenanigans with yours."

She walks through the door, but not before miming a quick curtesy, because it feels like the appropriate response for someone holding a door open for her. If by appropriate we mean the exact opposite.

"Now I see what's going on," she shoots him a look over her shoulder once she's through the door, "I'm just here to make you look better by comparison."

Here being some vague area where they're friends who spend lots of time together, as opposed to people who've hung out together twice.

"You should be honored," he said with a small laugh. "People who make me look responsible are few and far between."

Details.

"It's true, I'm a rare breed of woman," Which is, you know, true enough all things considered; most women aren't secretly vigilantes.

It takes her a quick second to scan the bar, both for threats/exits and for somewhere to sit, before she spots a free booth that will let them have their meal in reasonably privacy for a public place (it's natural, to search out that sort of space). She walks over to it, sliding into a seat.

"But for the record, you're terrible at giving compliments."

His glance around is subtle, but not absent. He's a regular at the Apache, but that doesn't mean he's relaxed.

"I am, that's true. My ex-wife used to tell me so, though to my knowledge that isn't the reason she's my ex-wife."

Ex-wife. Her eyebrows go up, surprised by that piece of information. She has mixed feelings about marriage, but mostly she thinks it's kind of terrible - blame her parents for that.

"I'd hope a lack of decent compliments wouldn't be enough to break up a marriage," but you never know.

"Well, some marriages..." He shrugs. "But. Let's get some food. Probably better than dissecting my matrimonial failures."

Winona is high on the list of things he'd rather not casually talk about.

"Probably, we could dissect mine, but then I'd have to kill you," Steph - doesn't actually think before she says words, sometimes. She just goes with what sounds most ridiculous.

"But yes, food," Well at least she can stay mildly on point. "Any recommendations?"

"Burgers aren't bad. I'd stay away from the nachos unless you're feeling really brave, though." Pub fare for all, and all for pub fare. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"I almost want to try the nachos on the basis of that recommendation, but I'd probably regret it later," Steph is trying hard to break out of her habit of instantly reacting to anything even remotely dangerous with challenge accepted.

She makes a vague hand gesture re: drinks, "Sure, why not. But I'm sticking with soda for today." She also needs to - stop drinking so much as a way to deal with missing all her friends.

"You grab a seat." Raylan is trying to keep his drinking from being scary, even on his days off, so a soda for him too. He returns with the drinks and menus.

"So now I can add 'tempted by suicidal nachos' to the very short list of things I know about you."

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