multiversallogs | You can have my girl, but don't touch my hat [OPEN]

Entry tags:

You can have my girl, but don't touch my hat [OPEN]

Who: Raylan Givens AND YOU
What: Out and about! Let me know where you're running into him.
Where: Mog Hill, mainly, and the environs.
When: All day Coardi
Notes: Despite his inner rage, he'll be friendly and polite enough to new (and old) acquaintances. Feel free to assume he's doing any of the things mentioned below, but if you want him for other plots, just hit me by PM or on plurk (prettiestwhistles)
Warnings: None for now

Raylan is angry. There are some who might argue Baedal has nothing to do with that, but it's different here than it was at home. He's a prisoner, even if his prison is city-sized. Even if he's free to run every morning (like he does) and go to the bar every night (...which he usually does too, though more for eavesdropping and brooding than to get properly drunk). Working for the sheriff feels like collusion, but at least Norrington hasn't asked him to do anything he can't do, so far.

The militia's broadcast had turned his stomach, but he doesn't know whose brain to put a bullet into for that. A criminal, even a band of criminals... you can fight that, he thinks. A corrupt government that rules by martial law - that's something else again.

So he gets up, goes for a run, works his beat, goes shopping for goddamn groceries, spends his evenings in bars, and bites down on how much this place rubs him wrong.

He thinks he'd best not get questioned by the militia again, because he doesn't know if he'll be able to keep his mouth shut. But even those who don't know him well might be able to identify a man with an itchy trigger finger.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Major design flaw. Someone should get on that," he suggests with a bitter little smile.

"Yeah."

Her sad little smile echoes his--and if there's a touch of concern for him at its edges she's not admitting it.

"Hey, maybe I'll rise far enough in politics here that I can get after somebody about that. You never know."

"Better you than me," he says, with a small laugh. "Just don't let the power go to your head."

"I won't, I promise," she replies, laughing. She balances the bottle on her knee, and adds, a bit more seriously, "I promised myself I wouldn't let this place change me too much."

"Not a bad goal. I think ever place changes you, though, whether you want it to or not." He certainly didn't feel quite the same, himself.

"I guess it does, yeah," she allows. "I guess in some ways, I have changed. I think I despair more, sometimes. But I also don't think I was half this brave when I was back home."

She shrugs, pausing for another sip of vodka. "But who I am, like, fundamentally? I don't want this place to get to me that bad."

"Well, that's fair." He leaned back a little. "Guess there's not much to do but push forward, though."

"Yeah. And 'use your ambition', like the brochure says." She makes a face. "Whatever that means. As long as I've been here, I still haven't figured that out."

"They want civic participation," he says with a shrug. "Whoever put us here doesn't want us to just get by. They want us to thrive."

"Oh, I'm going to thrive," Rachel insists, a faint smile turning her lips. "I may not go about it the way the city or the gods or whatever want me to, but I'm not about to just lie down and let this place get the better of me."

She takes another sip, the alcohol warming her from the inside, making her feel relaxed and maybe even a little fuzzy around the edges by now. "They had to know people would react like that, though, right? I used to assume they brought us here to bend us to their will or whatever, but, like--what if they want things to change?"

"Like they're trying to reverse-psychology us into smashing up the status quo?" He sounds thoughtful; it's an interesting thought, and one that makes some sense, given the sort of person their cohort seems to attract.

"I can't decide if that'd be better or worse."

She's frowning, like there's some idea just beyond her grasp and she can't quite get there, she can just sort of feel around the outlines.

"...You'd think gods would have the power to change whatever they wanted, if that was the case." She looks up at Raylan. "What if they can't? What if that's why they need us?"

"Just cause someone's more powerful than a human don't mean they're all-powerful," he says with a shrug. "You got enough juice, no one's going to say to your face you're not a god, are they?"

"I've got half a mind to ask them."

...Don't mind her, she's tipsy.

"If I don't turn up someday, you'll know they didn't take the question in the good humor in which I meant it."

"Rachel - don't go doing anything stupid," he says, earnestly, in the largest case of the pot calling the kettle black ever recorded.

She pauses with the bottle raised partway to her lips, eyebrows raised. "Oh, don't worry," she assures him, just as earnest. "I'll add 'don't fuss at the gods' to the list with 'don't drown', 'don't freeze to death', and 'don't make sense in bars' that some dude made me make." She flashes him a fond smile before taking her drink.

He laughs, glancing down. "Look, I only made the one friend, so it's gonna be inconvenient to me if anything happens to you."

"Well." Her gaze drops, too, as she smiles. "Guess I'd better not go depriving you, then."

"Very kind of you."

"It's the least I can do, Raylan. I haven't just made the one friend, but... well, I can't really think of one that means more, I guess."

"Oh, hell, did we get to that stage of drunkeness already?" he asks, after a short pause, laughing. It's not unkind, but it skirts the edge of taking things too seriously.

She laughs too, raising her bottle in mock salute. "You know it's a proper night's drinking when somebody goes making undying declarations, right?" she asks, shrugging. "At least that's out of the way."

"Least we're not in public anymore, so we're probably spared too much humiliation."

"Well, damn," she says, leaning back in her seat, an entirely mischievous smile turning her lips. "My secret plan: revealed. Should've known I couldn't fool a cop."

"I guess I am a cop now. Sort of. This fucking place."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject