"They are. Meant for keepin' Roman, while he's in his coma. Or any other trouble that might come up. Thought it might be nice for him to have a place to lay that isn't my bedroom or my living room."
Raylan leads them out onto a small wooden covered porch with its haint blue ceiling and few steps down to the white Caribbean sands that were steadily lapped against by the faux sea that stretched out in front of them. The seating was two chairs and a loveseat with a glass top, round coffee table. Raylan sets the wine down and sits on the left side of the love seat, arm settling over the back so he can drape it over Neal's shoulders when he sits.
"And this," he says, taking and letting a deep breath. "Which is really the prize of it all.."
Neal leans against Raylan, putting a hand on his leg. "Reminds me of Greece, a little bit. Certain places there. On Crete there's a beach with pink sand that goes on for miles."
He reaches his other hand over to pluck lightly at the front of Raylan's shirt. "Where are the bruises, angel? What was it that Malcolm said that made you hang up?"
"I bet that's stunnin'." He'd never been, but that wouldn't be a surprise. Not a lot of US Marshal Work happening in Crete these days. Or any day, really.
Neal plucks his shirt and asks that question and Raylan finds himself reluctant to say much. But he pushes through that feeling and tries anyway.
"He implied we weren't friends anymore. Or.. at least at the moment. Or that I wasn't treatin' him like one. Followed it in the same breath with reminding me that he's graduated an inmate and I haven't." He sucks his teeth a little, shaking his head. "I had.. hoped. Thought but was tryin' to not question him and I bein'.." He gestures a little. "Brotherly... He tells me its how siblin's fight sometimes. Apologized, we called it even, once he was at my door. Said he needed my help."
Raylan looks over. "How close are you two these days? What's he told you of his.. situation?"
Neal winces, putting an arm around Raylan’s shoulder and turning sideways so he can drape his knees lightly over the other man’s lap.
“That… is one of the things about Malcolm that scares me sometimes. He doesn’t lose his temper often, that I’ve seen. But when he wants to hurt you, if he’s close enough to know you, he knows exactly how.”
The question hurts, for reasons he can’t articulate. He might be good at learning other people, but he’s terrible at seeing certain parts of himself. “I don’t know. We’re close. But I don’t like Will. I don’t trust him. And Malcolm loves him. I have a harder time telling Malcolm anything knowing it could get to Will.”
And he’s still in love with Malcolm.
“When you say situation…” He tries to figure out how to say it without saying it, just in case. “What kind of situation do you mean?”
Raylan's hand slides down to settle on Neal's thigh after he's done shifting and takes a sip of his wine, humming a little at the taste on the back of his tongue. It's not bad. They'd get back to wine in a few minutes though.
"He knows where to cut." It was the surprise of Malcolm cutting him that what really hurt. The cuts themselves he could handle. Worse had been said about him. He already knew he could manage alone if he needed to. Hurt, he could handle. Some people couldn't.
His expression pinches as Neal talks, nodding a little in understanding. It was something to consider, but he generally likes Will. Hasn't seen anything that would suggest he shouldn't, but maybe Neal had seen something else.
But the question of clarification was an important one. Raylan studies Neal's face and internally wars over if he should say anything. But Malcolm had decided to be open about it, so it should be okay. Instead of saying it though, he lifts his hand and makes a claw as he says- "The-" Rawr. "Thing."
“He knows where to cut, and he does it instinctively. He doesn’t mean it, but that doesn’t make it hurt less.” He rests his head against Raylan’s shoulder, staring into space and remembering what Malcolm had said to him when they tangled after Neal snubbed Will at the gazebo. What he’d said in the counseling office after. He still feels those wounds whenever he sees Malcolm smile at Will, which doesn’t make it easier to take.
“He doesn’t get how deep it goes because he forgives so quickly himself.” A pause, and Neal closes his eyes for a moment. “Which I guess is a criticism.”
He opens his eyes in time to see Raylan’s wolf approximation and smiles, though much like Raylan’s expression earlier, it doesn’t make him look happy. “He came to talk to me the night after he did it. He’d asked me for advice before he made the decision. I was against it. But he chose them anyway, I guess. I did say at the time that I wasn’t going to be objective.”
"It's a decent defense. Especially against people who he knows aren't likely to punch him. A way to shift the ground of argument, put us back on our heels." It was easier to see now that he'd had some time to calm down and sorted. But Neal's details tell Raylan that he was one of the last people Malcolm told directly that he'd gone through with it or at the very least, not one of the first. It wasn't fair to Malcolm but that stung a little too.
"He came to me before it too, though I can't say how long before.. Asked me what I thought - I was against it too. Doesn't seem worth it. He told me it was for bond, for connection, for the sharper senses and strength.. That's what he wanted help with. I don't know that he's thought about the loss of humanity that's possible now, but he wants to feel safe. Wants to not be ostracized by his people for the choice. And I can't do that to him. He's made the choice so all we can do is support him if it bites him in the ass."
Neal doesn’t say anything right away, staring into space again. Not seeing anything in particular this time.
“He got irritated with the questions I posed, or the way I did so. I lost my temper and asked if he wanted my opinion or validation for a choice he already made. He didn’t tell me beforehand that he was going to do it. Will was there. So apparently that was an option. But he didn’t say anything until after.”
Neal closes his eyes. “You might be a better person than me. All I can think about is how I didn’t merit an FYI, and how much I want to hurt him back for that.”
A soft snort. “I guess that’s why only one of us started as an inmate.”
Raylan's thumb starts brushing back and forth on Neal's thigh as he listens. Fighting with Malcolm was never fun - it was gut wrenching and tittered on the edge of too many possibilities sometimes. It was also always emotionally charged, by way of Malcolm poking into those wounds for 'data', as Neal put it.
"I wish he had told me his decision before he made it but.. Not everythin' is my business. And I come from a place where there's no option but to live with folks I disagreed with-" On so so many things. "So you gotta love 'em despite the disagreement. Despite the hurt of it. I don't feel like he means to do it. To hurt us. And that's better than maliciously doing it.. There's a difference between forgivin' something and givin' that something a pass for the sake of keepin' someone.
But my line between inmate and warden is real thin, darlin'. When I was an inmate on the Clipper, it was hell. So I made sure it was hell for everyone. I made sure it was hell for Malcolm, specifically. Took him hostage and all. Every day is a new choice about which side I'm on. Most of the time, I choose correctly."
Neal winces when Raylan tells him what happened on the Clipper, glad that their Malcolm is different. Or at least seems to be. Both because he doesn’t know if he’d like the Malcolm of the Clipper and because it’s complicated enough for Raylan without them being the same person.
He sets his glass down on the coffee table so he can rub his face with one hand before dragging his fingers back through his hair. Then he smiles at Raylan, small and fleeting. “I’m supposed to be the one comforting you.”
It gave Raylan a sense of what Malcolm could be like when he was maliciously cutting. It was still data of it's own kind, still a view into Malcolm on the wrong side of things. They weren't specifically the same person, but it was the same potential. The same drive.
Raylan pulls a little smile in return as he leans in a fraction.
"Who says you aren't. It's nice to have someone I can trust enough to talk about the ins and outs of a complicated relationship, with full context and understandin'. I wish I could talk to Tim about this kinda stuff but. I don't know that that'll happen any time soon. And Maggie is fantastic, but I don't.. like lettin' her see some of this. She helps me shoulder some of the shit with James and she's got her own plates up in the air."
Neal lets his hand rest against Raylan’s cheek, running tracing his cheekbone with his thumb.
“I’m glad. You’re easy to talk to. You say what you mean, you’re straightforward, you’re honest. As honest as people will let you be safely.”
There’s a crimp of irony at the corner of his smile. “I don’t feel like we’re in competition when we’re discussing things like this. I’m not nervous about tripping an emotional mine and having you go off on me without a clear reason. I don’t have that with a lot of people.”
Raylan turns his head enough to kiss the inside of Neal's palm before putting his cheek back into the cup and studying Neal's eyes.
"I know where my lane is in all this; I love Malcolm like a brother but that doesn't really make me part of his inner circle. I feel like you're closer to him. In the day to day. I'm.. just here. Someone he sees sometimes. There's no toes to step on. No competition. We're both different things to him. And I'm glad of it. I don't wanna be in competition with you. I think if we were, we wouldn't be where we are.
I know you love him too, darlin'." It's said with a faint lift of his eyebrow. "You'll have to tell me how deep that goes but." He knew. He knew and he didn't hold it against Neal.
He pales a little when Raylan turns that honest, straightforward lens on to something that Neal himself had been doing everything in his power to avoid. The way the color drains out of him and his eyes go bright and fragile as blue crystal is dead giveaway of exactly how deep it goes.
“…I don’t know that I am. Closer than you. Maybe—probably—it’s my own fault, but. I haven’t…” His gaze drops from Raylan’s eyes to his lips, from his lips to his chest. “I don’t like seeing him with Will, and it feels like I never get to see him without any more.”
Raylan would be careful with that fragility, lest he give Neal reason to turn around and dig in, to break something in return.
"Can I ask you why you don't like it? Why you don't trust Will? Did he do somethin'? Say somethin'?" Was it the mental health issues? Raylan doubted that but he knew better than to assume and an argument could be made. Not a great one, perhaps, but an argument, nonetheless.
Neal presses his lips into a tight line for a moment, focus still fixed on Raylan’s chest. He’s not upset with the cowboy, at least.
“He…” Why. Why? Other than the fact that he’s jealous and doesn’t trust anyone easily? “We didn’t exactly get off on the best foot. And when Lestat hurt Malcolm and Will wanted to kill him, the things he said and the way he said them—”
He cuts himself off and the pinched expression returns for a moment. “He…”
He talked about Neal’s emotions in front of Malcolm, the same way Malcolm has done in front of others, but it wasn’t invited. Or maybe it just wasn’t expected.
None of it amounts to enough for his feelings to be as potent as they are.
Neal’s focus sinks a little lower still, so he doesn’t have to catch Raylan’s expression even out of the corner of his eyes. “Malcolm only ever tried to hurt me once. And it worked. And he did it for Will. He…”
Neal closes his eyes, resignation making his throat tight. “He picked Will. If I ever let Will into a position where we could… fight, or. Be upset with each other. He’ll pick Will. And I don’t think I can take him talking to me like that again. I can’t take knowing he’s willing to do that.”
It was a big question and not one a lot of people tended to ask others or themselves. But the 'why' was just as important as the kneejerk reaction and the gut clench, even if the why was 'I don't know'.
Raylan was still and silent as Neal worked out how to say it, giving him the room to navigate as he watches the way it all moves over Neal's face. He could tell this ran deep, this reason, deep into the unknown as Neal stumbles and stutters. His hand stays draped on Neal's thigh, heavy and steady.
There wasn't much to do about the way that Neal was feeling. Watching someone else get picked over you when you had already been so important stung. Raylan sets his glass down and shifts to take Neal under his arm, encouraging those knees and legs over as much as needed.
"That's a hard one, darlin'. Just because he made that choice in that situation doesn't mean that he'll make the same one in others, but. I understand why that isn't an easy option or the first one you consider. I think Malcolm is tastin' happiness and as wonderful and amazin' as bein' in love is, people do some weird and abnormal things sometimes to defend it. It's not an excuse. That doesn't mean I can't see the magic in it blindin' him a little."
Neal settles against Raylan, enjoying the oddity of being held by someone who's taller than he is, if not broader. He gets the appeal.
It doesn't mean he'll make the same choice, Raylan says, and Neal barely reacts to that. The corners of his lips twitch briefly downward unhappily, his eyes still on Raylan's chest and the way it moves as he breathes.
"He already did, Raylan. Will was the one who got to be there when he went through with the change. He didn't even tell either of us."
"I suppose that's true. But we're still circlin' around one choice not bein' all of 'em. The question is how many choices like that do you bear? As long as he's in love? As long as it isn't life or death? ... What happens if he dies? Does he come back with this power or not?"
Something to think on, that last one.
"I wanna give him time to prove if this was a bad choice or not. Either it'll bite him or it'll bite us but my neckhairs are upright about it." Something was going to happen. Sooner or later. "He told me he wanted to see what it was like being somethin' other than broken. I disagree, I don't think it's gonna fix anything, but I can understand that want. To be somethin' other than just what you are when you hate what that is... Normally, people just get a haircut and wear somethin' weird.."
“I told him I would probably do it if I was the one it had been offered to. The fact that we’re here, that the Admiral could fix it, that I’d never have the chance back home. I’d be too curious to say no. But I also told him it worries me and makes me jealous and I don’t trust Lark.”
And doesn’t know yet that he’s gone.
He smiles a little at Raylan’s mention of alternatives to lycanthropy. “Malcolm isn’t exactly prone to doing the low key version of anything. But you’re right. Adding something new to your life just to try and fix what’s broken—it never works out well.“
"Well, not trustin' Lark isn't really an issue right now. And it makes me feel Other with him in a way I don't like but.." He shakes his head a little.
"Nothin' we can do about that except make our own choices in response. And if Lark comes back, I'm beatin' the livin' shit outta him." Might shoot him once for good measure too, even if he knew nothing would stick.
"Exactly what it sounds like, love. He turned Malcolm and then left. Left, got taken away, it doesn't much matter. He turned Malcolm and now isn't here to help him understand what the hell is happening. But apparently 'they' took him hunting and he caught a moose so I should be reassured."
"Good." And unlike his other 'good's, this one was heavy and cold. Full of darker intent.
But he takes and lets a deep breath, thumb stroking on Neal's leg again.
"But now neither of us are alone in shoulderin' some of this feelin'. Only thing we can do is wait and see. As well as distract ourselves with wine and good company."
Of course, there was still more digs that Raylan hadn't mentioned but he couldn't handle talking about marriage right now. Not if he could avoid it. It would only lead to questions about his choices and he couldn't handle that either.
"Why don't you tell me about what the other bottle you brought while I finally get around to payin' attention to the first?"
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Raylan leads them out onto a small wooden covered porch with its haint blue ceiling and few steps down to the white Caribbean sands that were steadily lapped against by the faux sea that stretched out in front of them. The seating was two chairs and a loveseat with a glass top, round coffee table. Raylan sets the wine down and sits on the left side of the love seat, arm settling over the back so he can drape it over Neal's shoulders when he sits.
"And this," he says, taking and letting a deep breath. "Which is really the prize of it all.."
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He reaches his other hand over to pluck lightly at the front of Raylan's shirt. "Where are the bruises, angel? What was it that Malcolm said that made you hang up?"
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Neal plucks his shirt and asks that question and Raylan finds himself reluctant to say much. But he pushes through that feeling and tries anyway.
"He implied we weren't friends anymore. Or.. at least at the moment. Or that I wasn't treatin' him like one. Followed it in the same breath with reminding me that he's graduated an inmate and I haven't." He sucks his teeth a little, shaking his head. "I had.. hoped. Thought but was tryin' to not question him and I bein'.." He gestures a little. "Brotherly... He tells me its how siblin's fight sometimes. Apologized, we called it even, once he was at my door. Said he needed my help."
Raylan looks over. "How close are you two these days? What's he told you of his.. situation?"
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“That… is one of the things about Malcolm that scares me sometimes. He doesn’t lose his temper often, that I’ve seen. But when he wants to hurt you, if he’s close enough to know you, he knows exactly how.”
The question hurts, for reasons he can’t articulate. He might be good at learning other people, but he’s terrible at seeing certain parts of himself. “I don’t know. We’re close. But I don’t like Will. I don’t trust him. And Malcolm loves him. I have a harder time telling Malcolm anything knowing it could get to Will.”
And he’s still in love with Malcolm.
“When you say situation…” He tries to figure out how to say it without saying it, just in case. “What kind of situation do you mean?”
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"He knows where to cut." It was the surprise of Malcolm cutting him that what really hurt. The cuts themselves he could handle. Worse had been said about him. He already knew he could manage alone if he needed to. Hurt, he could handle. Some people couldn't.
His expression pinches as Neal talks, nodding a little in understanding. It was something to consider, but he generally likes Will. Hasn't seen anything that would suggest he shouldn't, but maybe Neal had seen something else.
But the question of clarification was an important one. Raylan studies Neal's face and internally wars over if he should say anything. But Malcolm had decided to be open about it, so it should be okay. Instead of saying it though, he lifts his hand and makes a claw as he says- "The-" Rawr. "Thing."
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“He doesn’t get how deep it goes because he forgives so quickly himself.” A pause, and Neal closes his eyes for a moment. “Which I guess is a criticism.”
He opens his eyes in time to see Raylan’s wolf approximation and smiles, though much like Raylan’s expression earlier, it doesn’t make him look happy. “He came to talk to me the night after he did it. He’d asked me for advice before he made the decision. I was against it. But he chose them anyway, I guess. I did say at the time that I wasn’t going to be objective.”
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"He came to me before it too, though I can't say how long before.. Asked me what I thought - I was against it too. Doesn't seem worth it. He told me it was for bond, for connection, for the sharper senses and strength.. That's what he wanted help with. I don't know that he's thought about the loss of humanity that's possible now, but he wants to feel safe. Wants to not be ostracized by his people for the choice. And I can't do that to him. He's made the choice so all we can do is support him if it bites him in the ass."
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“He got irritated with the questions I posed, or the way I did so. I lost my temper and asked if he wanted my opinion or validation for a choice he already made. He didn’t tell me beforehand that he was going to do it. Will was there. So apparently that was an option. But he didn’t say anything until after.”
Neal closes his eyes. “You might be a better person than me. All I can think about is how I didn’t merit an FYI, and how much I want to hurt him back for that.”
A soft snort. “I guess that’s why only one of us started as an inmate.”
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"I wish he had told me his decision before he made it but.. Not everythin' is my business. And I come from a place where there's no option but to live with folks I disagreed with-" On so so many things. "So you gotta love 'em despite the disagreement. Despite the hurt of it. I don't feel like he means to do it. To hurt us. And that's better than maliciously doing it.. There's a difference between forgivin' something and givin' that something a pass for the sake of keepin' someone.
But my line between inmate and warden is real thin, darlin'. When I was an inmate on the Clipper, it was hell. So I made sure it was hell for everyone. I made sure it was hell for Malcolm, specifically. Took him hostage and all. Every day is a new choice about which side I'm on. Most of the time, I choose correctly."
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He sets his glass down on the coffee table so he can rub his face with one hand before dragging his fingers back through his hair. Then he smiles at Raylan, small and fleeting. “I’m supposed to be the one comforting you.”
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Raylan pulls a little smile in return as he leans in a fraction.
"Who says you aren't. It's nice to have someone I can trust enough to talk about the ins and outs of a complicated relationship, with full context and understandin'. I wish I could talk to Tim about this kinda stuff but. I don't know that that'll happen any time soon. And Maggie is fantastic, but I don't.. like lettin' her see some of this. She helps me shoulder some of the shit with James and she's got her own plates up in the air."
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“I’m glad. You’re easy to talk to. You say what you mean, you’re straightforward, you’re honest. As honest as people will let you be safely.”
There’s a crimp of irony at the corner of his smile. “I don’t feel like we’re in competition when we’re discussing things like this. I’m not nervous about tripping an emotional mine and having you go off on me without a clear reason. I don’t have that with a lot of people.”
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"I know where my lane is in all this; I love Malcolm like a brother but that doesn't really make me part of his inner circle. I feel like you're closer to him. In the day to day. I'm.. just here. Someone he sees sometimes. There's no toes to step on. No competition. We're both different things to him. And I'm glad of it. I don't wanna be in competition with you. I think if we were, we wouldn't be where we are.
I know you love him too, darlin'." It's said with a faint lift of his eyebrow. "You'll have to tell me how deep that goes but." He knew. He knew and he didn't hold it against Neal.
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“…I don’t know that I am. Closer than you. Maybe—probably—it’s my own fault, but. I haven’t…” His gaze drops from Raylan’s eyes to his lips, from his lips to his chest. “I don’t like seeing him with Will, and it feels like I never get to see him without any more.”
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"Can I ask you why you don't like it? Why you don't trust Will? Did he do somethin'? Say somethin'?" Was it the mental health issues? Raylan doubted that but he knew better than to assume and an argument could be made. Not a great one, perhaps, but an argument, nonetheless.
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“He…” Why. Why? Other than the fact that he’s jealous and doesn’t trust anyone easily? “We didn’t exactly get off on the best foot. And when Lestat hurt Malcolm and Will wanted to kill him, the things he said and the way he said them—”
He cuts himself off and the pinched expression returns for a moment. “He…”
He talked about Neal’s emotions in front of Malcolm, the same way Malcolm has done in front of others, but it wasn’t invited. Or maybe it just wasn’t expected.
None of it amounts to enough for his feelings to be as potent as they are.
Neal’s focus sinks a little lower still, so he doesn’t have to catch Raylan’s expression even out of the corner of his eyes. “Malcolm only ever tried to hurt me once. And it worked. And he did it for Will. He…”
Neal closes his eyes, resignation making his throat tight. “He picked Will. If I ever let Will into a position where we could… fight, or. Be upset with each other. He’ll pick Will. And I don’t think I can take him talking to me like that again. I can’t take knowing he’s willing to do that.”
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Raylan was still and silent as Neal worked out how to say it, giving him the room to navigate as he watches the way it all moves over Neal's face. He could tell this ran deep, this reason, deep into the unknown as Neal stumbles and stutters. His hand stays draped on Neal's thigh, heavy and steady.
There wasn't much to do about the way that Neal was feeling. Watching someone else get picked over you when you had already been so important stung. Raylan sets his glass down and shifts to take Neal under his arm, encouraging those knees and legs over as much as needed.
"That's a hard one, darlin'. Just because he made that choice in that situation doesn't mean that he'll make the same one in others, but. I understand why that isn't an easy option or the first one you consider. I think Malcolm is tastin' happiness and as wonderful and amazin' as bein' in love is, people do some weird and abnormal things sometimes to defend it. It's not an excuse. That doesn't mean I can't see the magic in it blindin' him a little."
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It doesn't mean he'll make the same choice, Raylan says, and Neal barely reacts to that. The corners of his lips twitch briefly downward unhappily, his eyes still on Raylan's chest and the way it moves as he breathes.
"He already did, Raylan. Will was the one who got to be there when he went through with the change. He didn't even tell either of us."
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"I suppose that's true. But we're still circlin' around one choice not bein' all of 'em. The question is how many choices like that do you bear? As long as he's in love? As long as it isn't life or death? ... What happens if he dies? Does he come back with this power or not?"
Something to think on, that last one.
"I wanna give him time to prove if this was a bad choice or not. Either it'll bite him or it'll bite us but my neckhairs are upright about it." Something was going to happen. Sooner or later. "He told me he wanted to see what it was like being somethin' other than broken. I disagree, I don't think it's gonna fix anything, but I can understand that want. To be somethin' other than just what you are when you hate what that is... Normally, people just get a haircut and wear somethin' weird.."
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And doesn’t know yet that he’s gone.
He smiles a little at Raylan’s mention of alternatives to lycanthropy. “Malcolm isn’t exactly prone to doing the low key version of anything. But you’re right. Adding something new to your life just to try and fix what’s broken—it never works out well.“
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"Nothin' we can do about that except make our own choices in response. And if Lark comes back, I'm beatin' the livin' shit outta him." Might shoot him once for good measure too, even if he knew nothing would stick.
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"Exactly what it sounds like, love. He turned Malcolm and then left. Left, got taken away, it doesn't much matter. He turned Malcolm and now isn't here to help him understand what the hell is happening. But apparently 'they' took him hunting and he caught a moose so I should be reassured."
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“If he ever comes back, I’m going to make his every waking moment a misery.” The calm, level way he says it does not imply he’s joking.
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But he takes and lets a deep breath, thumb stroking on Neal's leg again.
"But now neither of us are alone in shoulderin' some of this feelin'. Only thing we can do is wait and see. As well as distract ourselves with wine and good company."
Of course, there was still more digs that Raylan hadn't mentioned but he couldn't handle talking about marriage right now. Not if he could avoid it. It would only lead to questions about his choices and he couldn't handle that either.
"Why don't you tell me about what the other bottle you brought while I finally get around to payin' attention to the first?"
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