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

[gotbottle]

She makes a big show of rolling her eyes, mock annoyed. "Yeah, yeah, I know. And yet I listen anyway. I dunno. I must like the guy or something."

[toooldforlosing]

"Well, just as long as he doesn't abuse the privilege." Raylan shakes his head. "Give him an inch, next you'll have to promise not to get shot or run over or jump off tall buildings."

[gotbottle]

"...Damn. Guess I better return that base-jumping parachute. Good thing I kept the receipt."

She just about manages to deadpan that, but one side of her mouth twitches a little, giving her away.

[toooldforlosing]

He laughs, frank. "Good thing at that."

[gotbottle]

She laughs, too, shaking her head. "No, no, nothing like that. I save all my daredevil ways for the water. No jumping in front of things or off tall things, no getting shot at."

She finishes her drink, and she waves to get a bartender's attention. "So how is work going, apart from the worry that they might spring untenable things on you someday?"

[toooldforlosing]

He makes a so-so gesture. "It's a bit different from what I did at home, but not radically. I'm mostly out on patrol, keeping an eye out for n'er-do-wells. And being seen to look out for n'er-do-wells." He's never been the most inconspicuous person.

[gotbottle]

"I've heard sometimes a noticeable police presence is all that's needed to deter a lot of crime," Rachel says, and inwardly, she's thinking that she never ever thought anyone said n'er-do-wells outside of books. Goodness.

"And it's steady work," she offers, getting back to the matter at hand. "And it at least puts you in a better position to try to protect and help people. That's something."

[toooldforlosing]

"Yeah - least no one's tried to take my weapon off me so far," he allows, which he isn't confident would be the case if he'd remained entirely a private citizen. "Pays the rent, too."

He isn't happy about it, in some ways, but not so unhappy as to do something entirely outside his area.

[gotbottle]

"That's a definite plus. The way this place seems to go to hell on a regular basis, monsters and all? Having a weapon's a good thing."

She holds up her glass when the bartender finally looks her way, glancing a moment at Raylan. "You want another one?"

[toooldforlosing]

"Yeah, I'll take another." He's in no rush to move. "What about you? How's the coffeehouse going?"

[gotbottle]

Rachel makes sure the bartender understands to bring another for Raylan, too, and then she turns her attention back to him, shrugging. "Same as ever. It's a great place to work and the people are nice but I feel like I could be doing more. I don't know. I'll figure something out."

[toooldforlosing]

"I've no doubt," he agrees. "Besides, got to have a job that leaves time for this political activism, hm?" It's fond; he's not really teasing her because he disrespects it, but he worries about where it will lead.

[gotbottle]

"Yeah." She smiles, faintly. "Or something. Some way to help or try to make a difference. I think..." She sighs. "I think I got real focused on the ways this place was, like, messing with me, and a lot of things got away from me for a while."

[toooldforlosing]

"It's a place that gets under your skin," he says. "Lots of different ways."

[gotbottle]

"Yeah. Yeah, I know. I've been reading this lady's diary." She holds up a hand, a faint smile turning her lips. "I know, I know. It was mixed in with some books I got off this guy, it belonged to his late aunt. But she lived here, like, a long time. And it was the same for her as it's been for me. Optimistic at first, ready to bash her way out of here, and then... the place started eating at her. I guess no one really escapes that, after all."

[toooldforlosing]

"Christ," he says, mildly. "Sounds... cheery." A pause, then he said, "I had a friend who vanished. He was here, then his CiD didn't connect to anything. No trace of him. Or his dog. Some people told me he probably went home."

Raylan would like to believe it.

[gotbottle]

"This one guy vanished," Rachel offers. "And then he came back, I heard him on the network. Dr. McCoy. So, I mean." She leans in a little. "At least, like--vanishing from the city doesn't mean you're dead?"

Is that encouraging? She's not sure.

[toooldforlosing]

"Not necessarily, at least." Raylan is a ray of sunshine!

"Wonder if he remember this bit, when he went back?" And if he did, if he could ever stop wondering when he'd be ripped from his life again.

[gotbottle]

"I didn't exactly ask," Rachel says, making a face. "I mean, like, he just got back, right? Getting here just once is like a total ordeal--I can't imagine arriving a second time. Obviously he knew he had, because he recognized the room and the bit from the brochure about being a threat or whatever."

She shrugs, pausing for a moment as their drinks arrive. She takes a long drink out of hers. "I saw his friend was rushing over to pick him up and someone else was letting him out of the room. I didn't think 'hey so while you wait for your buddy, let me interrogate you about your new trauma' was a real appropriate thing just then, poor guy."

[toooldforlosing]

"Well, I didn't mean right at the time," he says, a bit wry. "Your point's valid. I was just... rhetorically wondering now."

[gotbottle]

"Oh. Well. He at least remembered when he was back in the room."

She takes another drink and then she frowns, thoughtful. "...I hope he didn't remember when he was away. Can you imagine, like, thinking you'd totally escaped this place, and then winding up back here?"

Now who's a ray of sunshine?

[toooldforlosing]

He grimaces. "I don't know. Maybe better that than knowing they can do full-scale Jedi mind trick-style memory wipes." Neither option, in fairness, is very comforting.

[gotbottle]

"Yeah. I don't know." She wraps her hands around her glass, giving him a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry about your friend, though."

[toooldforlosing]

"Yeah." He laughs, shaking his head, turning a bit inward. "...yeah. He'd have hated this place, so."

If time moves at home like it moves in Baedal, he's a father by now. He wonders if Tim will keep an eye on Winona, with him gone. Art would, surely. Someone.

[gotbottle]

"I know he's better off," Rachel says quietly, still smiling, very faintly. "I'm just sorry you had to worry. That you're down a friend in a place where you kinda need them a little more."