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. ]

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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."

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.

Raylan's eyebrows lift.

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

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."

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

"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."

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.

Red grabs his beer and nods.

"Of course."

Like he'd miss this. And, if things do go awry, Red's fireproof.

Tail swaying, Hellboy follows Raylan outside.