(no subject)

[itwasjustified]

[ timed to the day after this entrance ]

This bug gore is nasty.

A scraped and bruised deputy U.S. marshal has been scrubbing at his borrowed armor for the past hour, to little avail, in a booth along one wall.

He's determined to restore the suit to its previous condition before he turns it back over to Ellen, so he approaches the counter with grimy hands and a half-hopeful heart.

"Bar," he says, "there has got to be something that can get this stuff off."

A bottle, a fresh rag, and a clean bowl of water appear.

He lifts an eyebrow.

"Goo Gone?" He shifts his weight, still obviously favoring one side, thanks to yesterday's battle. "No shit?"

A napkin appears next to the bottle.

"I'm sorry. That was unbecoming."

A jar appears next, partially filled with an assortment of coins and bills from all ends of the multiverse.

"A swear jar," Raylan says, his voice flat. "Nice."

He doesn't push his luck too much, though, lest the Goo Gone disappear; he digs into his pocket, wincing at the pull of scraped skin along the back of his hand.

He deposits a smattering of loose change, and the jar winks out of existence, soon replaced by a steaming cup of coffee.

Raylan smiles, despite his split lower lip.

"Thank you."





[ ooc: open forever! or, y'know, till his next ep. ]

Comments

[notenlightened]

"I'd say you don't look worse for the wear, but - "

This voiced from the L.A. cop sitting down the bar, who eyes the armor with a tilt of her head and a corresponding quirk of her mouth.

" - I've never been a very good liar."

[itwasjustified]

He glances up and over.

"At this moment," he says, one corner of his mouth turning up, "it wouldn't matter if you were the best liar in the world, Detective Reese. Saying I look like hell warmed over'd be generous."

[notenlightened]

"Well, I'm not trying to be unnecessarily cruel," she points out, curling one hand around her drink (coffee, lukewarm at this point) and sidling over.

"Adding insult to injury is the phrase that's coming to mind."

[itwasjustified]

He nudges over the bowl of water another inch, giving her some extra space for her mug.

"And it's not even my birthday. Did I do something to earn this good favor of yours?"

[notenlightened]

"You mean, other than looking like you wound up on the wrong side of somebody's fist, for starters?" she replies, peering at the split in his lip.

"Maybe I'm just feeling nice."

[itwasjustified]

"Oh, it was — "

He glances at the bloodied armor, and pulls a slight face.

"A little complicated. Alien bugs with big teeth and sharp claws."

A beat.

"Kind of like the Big Bad Wolf, now that I think about it."

[notenlightened]

"Alien bugs."

Beat.

"You shitting me?"

The jar reappears. Reese grimaces and reaches into the back pocket of her jeans.

[itwasjustified]

"As much as I would like to say yes ... "

Raylan's eyes cut to the jar, and he stifles a chuckle.

"Nope."

He holds up one hand, and takes out his wallet with the other. A second later, he offers up a dollar bill; he doesn't mind taking the blame for that slip of the tongue.

[notenlightened]

She reaches over to to clasp his fingers, prying the bill loose as she turns his hand over in her grip, frowning at the cut.

"Well, as long as they didn't infect you with their alien claws."

It strikes her as ironic, ultimately, how she's taking this in stride.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Sooner or later, he's going to get a "Mroo?" sound and a curious look from a dog with one blue eye and one brown eye.

Seriously, Dogmeat's smelled some foul things in his time, but that's not a smell he recognizes at all.

[itwasjustified]

Raylan pauses in mid-scrub, and glances down.

"Oh, trust me," he says, "you want no part of this."

He puts down the rag, and offers his cleanest hand to Dogmeat, first for approval, then for scritching.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Nevertheless it's worth investiga- oooh, human hand, okay, he can turn his attention to that instead. People who scritch are good things. Yes. He's good with this.

[itwasjustified]

The soreness in Raylan's ribs curbs his under-the-breath chuckle, but doesn't stop him from giving a little extra attention to the spot just behind Dogmeat's left ear.

"Good boy," he says, his voice low and kind. "I promise, this is much better than what this suit's got going on for itself."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Yeah, okay, Dogmeat's going to go along with that, tail waving like mad; far be it from him to argue when stuff's going this well. Even if he does kinda catch what sounds like Ellen coming in this general direction. She'll understand. She usually does.

[itwasjustified]

Raylan's fingers move to the top of Dogmeat's head, and Dogmeat gets several pats before Raylan takes back his hand.

"Treats all right by you?"

As if Dogmeat could actually answer.

Shaking his head slightly at himself, Raylan turns to the bar, just in time to see a bone-shaped dog biscuit appear.

"You're on top of it today," he says to the counter, "you know that?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

There are lots of strange things and mutant animals in the world Dogmeat comes from, but talking dogs are not on the list. Just dogs who're entirely too happy to hop up on their hind legs and look intently at the biscuit as soon as the smell hits their nostrils. Because grabbing something and eating it without permission is Bad, obviously.

[itwasjustified]

"Well, hey, there," Raylan says, with a short chortle, once he turns back to Dogmeat.

He slides over the biscuit.

"Knock yourself out."

It's probably even healthy, knowing Bar.

[bprd_agent_red]

"Burn it," Red suggests from a few stools down. "It'll get the guts right off."

Hefting himself to his feet, Hellboy saunters over, a beer in hand, and reaches to take the armor for closer inspection.

"It's guts, right? Or did you come out the wrong end of something big and nasty?"

[itwasjustified]

Raylan looks up, and half-smiles in acknowledgment.

He remembers Red from that bartending shift with the boot-glass.

(And, in all honesty, Red's kind of hard to forget.)

"Guts," Raylan says, to confirm. "I hadn't thought about fire, but I'm trying not to do any more damage to the suit — it's a loaner."

[bprd_agent_red]

Red of course remembers Raylan, he still owes the guy for the boot and all the fun he's had with it.

"Naaahhh, it'll be fine. I do it all the time."

Red waves off the worry.

"You just light it up, then buff the char right off."

He makes a sweeping motion, and puts on a polished smile; the actions straight from every informercial there ever was.

[itwasjustified]

Raylan's eyebrows lift.

"What kind of success rate are you working with, as far as suit survival after the fact?"

[bprd_agent_red]

Red uses a stone finger to scratch at his goatee, and thinks about that a moment.

"Well, it's a bit hard to say. But, usually fire isn't the only problem when things go wrong."

[itwasjustified]

"Do I want to ask a follow-up question?"

[bprd_agent_red]

"Hey, don't worry about it. It'll be fine."

Red reaches out and slaps Raylan on the back (using his flesh hand, since he likes Raylan).

"C'mon, marshal, trust me. Guts and grime are my thing."

[itwasjustified]

Raylan masks a light cough with a low chuckle.

"All right," he says, and requests a bottle of lighter fluid and a box of matches from Bar.

(A small fire extinguisher also appears. Safety first!)

He hefts the suit and the supplies, along with a fresh towel, and glances at Red.

"You coming?" he asks, tipping his head toward the back door.