It was nice, to be granted the freedom of his impulse without Neal waiting in the wings to chew him a new one for it. Of course, Neal had never done anything like that but the darkest corners of Raylan's mind waited for it. It might not be specifically the room, specifically the destruction, but it would have to do with anger. It always did.

Raylan lets the shift happen but keeps his eye on his glass until Neal says 'I'm sorry', eyes coming over to study his face as he speaks. He'll take the apologies but it was the soft, intimate touches that really calmed him and gave him a sense of grounding.

He hums a little at the kiss, lips pulling at the edges towards a smile.

"I can guess why that is. And it's unfortunate that that ain't gonna change. Folks that see that you bruise only strike harder, lookin' for blood or a reaction they can feed off of. I can't give that to them without becomin' a target." And he couldn't allow himself to become a target - that would end with someone dead and him demoted, and his wish for Willa's safety being lost.

"I will say that's the first time I've heard that opinion though." And he'd heard a LOT of opinions.

"There's a reason I've stopped myself from hittin' Malcolm the couple of times he's really been askin' for it. I think he functions the same way as everyone else, but when he gets a reaction, it's only proof that he's right that there's some.. nebulous larger 'wrong' to be fixed and addressed." Raylan couldn't have that either. As few questions generated as possible, and due to that, how Raylan behaves is constricted.

"So I can handle people pickin' fights. My heart might not bruise on the surface, but their faces do." It was how he survived.