tushanshu_logs | But the town square is quiet, the juke joints are empty

Characters: Raylan Givens and Olivia Dunham and Dorian Gray and whoever else??
Date: AROUND NOW.
Location: an Earth Sector bar
Situation: RAYLAN IS SULKING, P MUCH.
Warnings/Rating: None atm will edit as needed.

[Raylan is a very particular kind of person. He has certain tendencies, given habits, patterns of behavior. And even as his job - his usual job - means he has no set schedule and has to pick up and haul ass into the metaphorical sunset after fugitives et cetera at a moment's notice, his personality means that he digs into his rituals that much harder because of it.

Tuesday night poker being Winona's favorite example to harp on.

But she wasn't wrong - all those years and he never missed a game.

Which is why he's sitting at the bar of a closed-down pub in the Earth Sector, nursing his fortunately powerful ration of alcohol - purchased elsewhere - and scowling at the empty shelves. It's not even that this place was better than most of the others (also closed). It's that it's the one he went to, one slice of routine in this shitkick town with its shapeshifters and Supermen and day jobs he knew he'd never miss.

On top of it all, he's back to feeling useless. One thing (one of many things) Raylan Givens does not do well is useless.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

No, I think that's the word for it. [ROTC, he remembers those uniforms, okay. And it fits her. Better than poetry. ]

Never was much for words myself, anyway. [Not entirely true given how much he talks, but details.] You go army after high school or get through college first? College first. Then army, then FBI.

[ Olivia rolls her eyes a little at the insistence, but... she can guess what he's thinking. Arguing probably isn't going to help. ]

Close. College, then Marines. Then FBI.

What about you? How'd you get out of Kentucky?

We got a badass over here.

[--and then he pauses, silence pregnant with surprise. Somehow, in spite of the trajectory of the conversation, he wasn't expecting that question.]

My aunt Helen. [Raylan looks away, smiling at the air. The expression is at least two-thirds self defense.] I'd probably be a body down a dog hole mine if it weren't for her.

[He shifts, looking at her more directly even as he takes the conversation for another turn.] I work with an former US Army Ranger, a sniper out of Afghanistan.

[ She's quiet for a moment, studying him thoughtfully. Wonders if she should ask after the story in that silence... but then he switches tacks, and she decides to let it go for the moment.

There's a soft exhale, almost a laugh. ] I work with someone out of Afghanistan too. Not military, just sort of a... nomad. Never was deployed myself.

How long was he over there?

About a year, I think. [He tries to recall if Tim ever said anything more specific than 'a tour'. Raylan shakes his head.] Mostly he doesn't talk about it and I don't ask, which as we all know is the best way of coping with trauma.

[He leans against the counter.] I hope you know I'm envisioning a man in robes with a camel somewhere in Boston.

[ Olivia snorts softly. ] Of course. I'm sure that works out well for you.

No camel. Though we do have a cow his father keeps in the lab.

And here Art thinks an office cat is an unreasonable request. Robes, though? He wear a turban to protect himself from the harsh Northeastern sun?

[He props he cheek against his fist, watching her with the beginnings of truly inebriated amusement.]

Clearly you're in the wrong office.

And, uh, we tend more toward sweaters and trenchcoats up there...

[He sighs, amusement parlaying into resignation.] No, I'm in the right office. Don't tell Winona I said that.

[He pours the remainder of his ration into the glass.] You like it up there? With your cow?

[ She smiles faintly, though she's eyeing the glass like she's wondering just how much he's had already. ]

I do, actually. It's definitely never boring. Her name's Gene, by the way. The cow.

What's this... Winona have against your office?

Ex-wife, current mother of my unborn alien. [He digs out his wallet and procures his copy of the last sonogram, sliding it across the counter toward Olivia.] Doesn't even have a tail. I'm so proud.

She doesn't tend to like how often I get shot at, knifed, et cetera.

You're having a baby? [ She picks up the sonogram and studies it with a faint smile. ] Were you expecting a tail?

And I guess that's fair enough. My sister's not fond of my job either.

But the town square is quiet, the juke joints are empty

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