milliways_bar | (no subject)

[ 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. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

She raises an eyebrow, gives him full use of his hand back.

"Tetanus covers aliens?"

"I really, really hope so."

"You and me both."

There's still a faint smile on her face as she takes in the sight of him.

"Sorry. Just trying to picture you with horns."

"Horns are better than open sores and a tail," he says, ever the diplomat.

"Now, how're you?"

"Decent."

She's not covered in goo, for starters.

"Better now."

He leans in a fraction, and lowers his voice.

"You are being nice."

"Who, me?"

She shakes her head, slow and even.

"Never."

"I see."

His eyes flick from her eyes to her mouth, and back again.

"I suppose I could be mistaken," he says, with a partial smirk. "But I'd like to think I'm not."

"Some could consider that as a little presumptuous."

Right now, she doesn't define herself as a one of those.

"Some."

"Now, now, only in this particular instance," he says, in a mild attempt to defend himself. "Let it be noted that wasn't a blanket statement."

"Good."

Now it's her turn to lean in, followed by a smirk of her own.

"Because I'm not always nice."

"But when you're good, you're very, very good."

A pause.

"That sounded a lot less lewd in my head, for the record. And considerably less creepy, even being a nursery rhyme."

"You're half-forgiven, marshal."

She glances into the contents of her mug, now cold, and nudges it aside.

"Half."

His eyes drop to her mug, and return to her face.

"I could make it up to you," he says, milking his eastern Kentucky drawl for anything it might be worth. "Get you another cup of coffee?"

"You could start with the coffee," she murmurs, raising an eyebrow.

We see what you did there, Raylan.

"It would be my pleasure," he says, and addresses the counter to request a fresh cup.

It appears in front of Dani, and Raylan murmurs a thank you in Bar's general direction.

"Thank you, Bar," she echoes, curling both hands around it.

"So, does that Goo Gone stuff really work?"

"It comes highly recommended, so I'm hoping that's the case."

He picks up the bottle, and gives it a cursory inspection before reading the label.

"Says it works on tar, gum, wax, blood and excrement stains, and exorcism splatters."

Raylan's betting he can't get this particular flavor of Goo Gone at his local big-box store.

She raises both eyebrows, nodding thoughtfully.

"Well, Bar knows how to provide."

A beat, and then she nudges him with her hip.

"Missing that hat."

"I gave it the day off. It wasn't feeling so swell."

A pause, and he cracks a half-smile.

"Or, I'm sorry — did you mean you're missing the hat, as opposed to it being missing from my head?"

She purses her lips, fighting a grin, disguising it behind the rim of her freshened coffee mug.

"Is that what I said?"

"Can't say for sure. Your delivery was vague."

He smirks.

"Possibly on purpose, but that could be construed as conjecture."

"Conjecture?"

She won't deny that she's enjoying the way the syllables fall from his lips, relaxed and unhurried, and her smile is similarly relaxed as she directs it towards him.

"Those are some big SAT-type words, marshal."

He lifts his coffee mug, and tips his head toward her, amusement in his eyes and the slant of his mouth.

"Just because I used to dig coal don't mean I didn't get myself some book-learning somewhere along the way."

"Big fancy book-learning," she replies, glancing toward the Bar with an obliging smile.

Moments later, she picks up his injured hand in her own again, dabbing it gently with a cloth dipped into the clean water.

(no subject)

itwasjustified - 2011-12-30 09:51 (UTC) - Expand

notenlightened - 2011-12-30 14:08 (UTC) - Expand

itwasjustified - 2012-01-02 04:49 (UTC) - Expand

notenlightened - 2012-01-02 14:08 (UTC) - Expand

itwasjustified - 2012-01-06 18:09 (UTC) - Expand

notenlightened - 2012-01-07 01:24 (UTC) - Expand