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Who: Raylan Givens and Rachel Conway
WhatThe Militia Is Up to No Good and Sucks Anyway: a tale recounted by Rachel Conway
Where: Rachel's apartment, Raven's Gate
When: backdated to Veerdi
Notes: takes place in the evening of this day
Warnings: will update if/as needed

She's paranoid now, following that run-in with the Militia. Rachel thinks she's probably being ridiculous, but she can't be sure she is, so. Better safe than sorry.

Or in jail.

Just in case they're still somehow watching or keeping tabs on her to see how she reacts to today, she doesn't dare use the video or voice on her CiD. She doesn't want prying eyes or ears to have enough context to hang her.

She goes over and over what to say, drafting and deleting and tweaking the message about half a dozen times before she's satisfied and sends it:

Are you free tonight? Can you come over to my place after you get off work? I really want to see you.

It works, she thinks. Without her face or voice to give anything away the message is perfectly innocuous: it reads like she's arranging an end-of-the-workweek date. And she's sure once he hears what she has to say, Raylan will forgive her the bit of subterfuge, the lack of warning that there was anything else going on.

(Besides, the message, while meant to hide another agenda, is still factually true. She really does want to see him.)

A little while later there's a volley of texts between them: yes, he's free, he'll come over, she'll send out for dinner if he'd like, he'll be there at seven. That leaves her enough time to get home and changed, to pour herself two fingers of whiskey and set out another glass for him, and to pace the living room until he turns up.

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Raylan can't help the niggling feeling something is going on. Not that he wouldn't like an evening with Rachel for its own sake, but the first text is a bit formal, a bit direct. No joke, no flirt.

It's par for the course, he suppose. Start to settle in and get comfy, then something goes dramatically wrong.

Still, he turns up in jeans and a button-down, on time and smiling. He doesn't know yet if she's in trouble or she is the trouble, but he hopes it's the former.

"Did I beat the takeout here?"

She smiles as soon as she opens the door to admit him, as soon as she lays eyes on him. And she takes a moment, once he's inside and she's closed the door behind him, to raise up on her toes and kiss him.

It's true that she had a specific reason for summoning him here tonight, and it's true that something's up. But those things being true are not true to the exclusion of everything else, especially not the fact that she's happy to see him and enjoys his company. And it's important to her to convey that to him before she launches into oh my god you won't believe the shit that happened today.

"You did," she says, stepping back so he can head to sit down. "Hopefully it won't be too long. You want a drink?"

He returns the kiss, glad for her company, whatever's up.

"Sounds good. Are we havin' a special occasion drink, or just a regular 'over for dinner' drink?" Or a oh god, oh god drink.

"Mostly the second."

But she sighs as she settles on the couch, pouring whiskey into both glasses.

"But it's also a bit of 'I need a drink after the day I've had', and you might as well join me."

"Well, fair enough." He comes to sit beside her. "From your message, seemed like something was up. Wasn't sure if I should expect someone holding you at gunpoint or just a long day."

She hands over a glass. "I'm sorry about that. Usually I'd call and not be so demanding without any explanation. I just felt weird after today, I wasn't sure if anyone was watching."

She takes a drink from her own glass. "It was a long day and I wasn't held at gunpoint, exactly, but... the militia did detain me at a checkpoint today, and they questioned me."

Raylan frowns, resting his drink on his knee. "Not that they need one, but any particular reason?"

Rachel spreads her hands in the universal gesture for fuck if I know, the whiskey in her glass sloshing against the sides a little. "I was over in Coin's End filing some paperwork on behalf of Jack's campaign, and there was a checkpoint. You know, so the oh-so-important people down there can feel like the unwashed masses can't get at them or whatever. Everything was fine until they saw what cohort I was in. As far as I can tell, that's what got me detained."

"Interesting." The way he says it, it's a euphemism for fuck those guys, but I wonder what they're up to.

"What'd they do, once they saw your cohort?"

"Two of them pulled me out of the flow of traffic. They kept my CiD and started going through it. They searched my bag, too, and then they called a lady over to pat me down."

A rare flash of anger and disgust darkens her face for a moment. "And then they asked me like a million questions. About everything. My job, how long I've been there, how long I've been in the city, do I know anybody causing trouble, do I like where I work, where do I live, they asked about my dog... they even asked me if this was my real hair color, can you believe them?"

She takes another sip. "But I noticed the way they were questioning me. Lots of questions, jumping all over the place with what they were asking me about, while they were checking out my CiD. Like they were trying to distract me. That's why I was paranoid about using the voice or video to get a hold of you earlier. I was so mad about it all and I didn't know if they'd done something, like if they'd be watching to see what I did when they let me go. I figured I couldn't fail any tests with a text message. No context, no picture of my face to show I was still mad or disapproved or whatever."

"Smart," he says, getting up to move a little with no particular aim. "Not like we have the tools to figure out what they did to it - though I wonder if someone in the city does."

He considers, then turns back to look at her. "Besides the cohort, it could have been that you're connected to your boss. Less likely, but possible, it could be that you're connected to me; I can't imagine the powers that be like Thames too much, even if they don't have an excuse to shut it down." Yet. "You've been visible about making cohort connections."

Rachel shifts once he's up, drawing her legs up and folding them, resting her elbows on her knees and leaning forward a little as she thinks his suggestion over. "It's possible," she allows, "but..."

Her gaze drifts, eyes fixed on nothing in particular as she recalls the encounter. "Okay, I walked up to them, the two men, and they asked for my identification. I gave one of them my CiD, they read off my name... and it didn't seem to register. I think they were even ready to let me go but then the one holding it pointed out my cohort to the other one. That's when they pulled me aside."

She looks up again, her gaze focused on his face. "I mean, like--I'm sure the rest might not have helped me any, once they started questioning me, or if they looked into my connections. But I don't think it was you or Jack or anyone else, or even me, that started it. I have the real distinct feeling it was me being in this particular cohort that made them interested."

He nods. "From how you describe it, that seems likeliest. But why? Not as if we're all organized in any meaningful way, beyond being a little easier to reach out to by Network. Lot of us don't even know each other." He's thinking aloud, mulling the problem over.

"Yeah, I was wondering that myself. What is it about our cohort that made these guys need to interrogate me right there in the street?"

That's the part that's been sticking hardest in her craw. That the militia have developed some opinion about their cohort, and she was given a hard time as a result, for something she probably hasn't done.

"Oh, but this weird thing happened--hang on." She gets up, going to fetch her CiD from the kitchen counter. She pulls off the tiny bit of paper with the number on it and she hands it to Raylan, looking up at him. "This was stuck to the screen when I got it back. It looks like it's someone else's CiD number, but I haven't tried it yet."

Raylan studies it a moment - she'd be forgiven for guessing he's memorizing the number. "I could see if Norrington'd have a way to check without calling it. No promises, but I can at least check. When'd you notice it was there?"

"That would be great, if you could. I didn't want to just call it blindly. I couldn't be sure if it was meant for me, if it was a mistake." She sighs. "Or, and this is probably like way paranoid of me, but I also thought, what if it was some kind of test? Like to check if I'm in the habit of calling numbers people slip to me."

The militia is so interested in their cohort, and she doesn't know why. It's possible they're trying to track behavior, what people would do with a mysterious phone number.

"But then--what if it's legit? If someone genuinely wanted me to have that number I don't want to just ignore it entirely."

"I'll see what I can turn up." There's a small risk it will draw attention back to Mog Hill, but Rayaln's fairly certain the militia will know he and Rachel are friends, if not more. It won't be hard to put two and two together if someone digs, but it's less risky than her just calling it.

"If it does come down to calling it, nothing strictly wrong with just making a phone call. But I can understand wanting to play it safe under the circumstances."

She feels better knowing he gets why she was so wary, that he wasn't dismissive of it. The whole thing had set her on edge, dredged up nearly-forgotten suspicions and distrust.

"Yeah, unless you can tell me, flat-out, that there's some good reason not to call whoever it is, I'll probably do it. I'm not gonna learn anything just studying that piece of paper." It's not likely it was a mistake, so either someone wants to test her or someone really did want her to have the number. There's a reason, then, for her having it, and not knowing has never been her strong suit.

He smiles, crooked. "Can you wait a day?" If not, well, he's not going to actively stop her. But he finds it easier telling other people to be careful than actually doing it himself.

She grins up at him, nodding, realizing how I'm just gonna rush ahead that sounded.

"Yes. I can even wait a couple of days, so you don't have to rush checking this out."

"I won't leave it too long," he promises, returning her smile. "But I'll do everything I can meanwhile."

"Thanks. I appreciate that." And she leans up to kiss him again, to underscore that declaration.

He draws her to him, kissing her a bit more properly. "You do seem very appreciative," he joked as they broke.

She laughs, downright mischievous. "Well. I could show you just how appreciative, but there's a delivery guy due here any minute. That could get awkward. And I should at least feed you, first."

"Curse you, Baedal equivalent of chicken fried rice," he said, laughing. "I guess I can behave until the food gets here."

He touches his knuckles to the back of her cheek. "You alright, really?"