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

[toooldforlosing]

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.

Comments

[toooldforlosing]

"Very kind of you."

[gotbottle]

"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."

[toooldforlosing]

"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.

[gotbottle]

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."

[toooldforlosing]

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

[gotbottle]

"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."

[toooldforlosing]

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

[gotbottle]

She nods, sympathetic. "You're a cop. As close to this place gets to what you did back home. I'm sure you and your colleagues are actually making a difference, too. Compared to the other options the people have."

[toooldforlosing]

"I guess. Half the people I meet are afraid I'm with the fucking militia - pardon."

[gotbottle]

She waves a hand, good-natured. "Don't apologize for language on my account. And the fact that so many people are afraid of the militia is exactly why the city needs people like you working with the sheriffs. They need somewhere else to go, someone else to rely on."

[toooldforlosing]

"People got reason. Far as I can tell, the militia's got no check, and that can't end well for anyone but the militia."

[gotbottle]

Rachel nods, thoughtful. "True. Even if it, like, started out with the best of intentions, without any oversight or anybody to stop them, there's no reason for things to keep going that way. It's kinda depressing but it's the way things tend to be."

[toooldforlosing]

"Put guns in people's hands and take away the consequences. That more or less always ends the same, I imagine." Badly.

"I'd like to know myself, how close the sheriff's office is tied to them, higher up."

[gotbottle]

She takes another sip from her bottle, thoughtful. "Guess you can't really ask. Like, if they are pretty closely entwined or whatever? And you go poking around too much from the inside? They might decide you're trouble. That could be a problem." To say the least.

Rachel leans in closer. "But. Someone on the outside could do a little digging. I mean. It sounds like a job for some aspiring investigative reporter, right?"

[toooldforlosing]

He smiles a little. "Maybe." He reaches out, lightly touching her shoulder. "It's nothing to go messing around with lightly, though. Doubt they've got much of a sense of humor about people poking around, inside or out."

[gotbottle]

She smiles, reaching up and touching his hands where it rests on her shoulder, before curling hers around it gently. "I'll be careful," she insists, earnest. "I'll find out what I can without getting, like, too mixed up in stuff. If it seems like there'll be trouble I'll leave it be."

[toooldforlosing]

"Alright. You can add it to your list of ways not to get killed." He leaves his hand where it is.

[gotbottle]

And so does she, idly running her thumb up and down the back of his hand. "This list is getting longer by the day," she teases gently. "But I'll remember. I promise I won't get myself into anything I can't get out of."

[toooldforlosing]

"Well, you didn't keep thinking of new ways of getting into trouble, that list wouldn't be so long, would it?"

Impeccable logic.

[gotbottle]

"Um, excuse you," she says, laughing, giving his hand another squeeze, "I don't always think of new ways, sometimes new ways just present themselves."

Totally ignoring the fact that she has a talent for figuring how to use those new ways that present themselves, hush.

[toooldforlosing]

He laughs too, quietly. "Yeah, well. You've got a particular talent for it, either way."

It occurs to him that kissing her would be a bad idea, but also that he wants to. In roughly that order, which is something new.

[gotbottle]

"...Yeah, okay, I'll give you that much."

She fidgets for a moment, because, you know, they're sitting awfully close, she could just lean right in and kiss him... But she's not sure how well that would go over, exactly. Even though she very much wants do.

She shifts, setting her bottle down so that hand's free too. She reaches over and lays it on his shoulder, mirroring his gesture.

"But because it's you that's asking, I'll do my best not to get in any serious trouble. Promise."

[toooldforlosing]

"That's very kind of you."

And because he figures that there's no point in making good decisions about women starting now (when has he ever), he does kiss her.

[gotbottle]

There's a surprised intake of breath, because she wasn't expecting that, at all--not in a bad way, mind, she just kind of had herself half talked out of it already, assuming he didn't see her like that. But she's quick wifh the recovery, her hand leaving his shoulder to cup the back of his neck as she kisses him back.

When she pulls away, her cheeks are flushed, and the most delighted smile turns her lips. "Oh, all right, fine," she teases, "I'll try even harder to stay out of trouble."

[toooldforlosing]

He laughs, quiet. It's almost certainly a terrible idea, but he'd wanted to do that a long time. They were both a little drunk, and it wasn't like he was married. (Not really.)

"I thought I'd give you a little incentive. Glad it worked."