Raylan nods. "Dinner it is." It would be something more elevated than fried chicken. He wasn't sure what yet, but he'd figure it out.
"Fake it until you make it but you fell in love." It was cute really. "I'm afraid my only real engagement with it is white women book clubs that I wasn't allowed to be at. Wasn't quite at box wine level, but they hit it hard. Nothin' like passion." Passion looked good on Neal. Made his eyes shine with a brightness that felt like it would light up the whole room.
"So is that the same for everythin' you were forgin'? Just seein' if you could achieve the same result?" Had Neal ever made wine?
Neal tilts his head back and forth in a 'yes and no' gesture. "I started..."
He looks down at his lap with a small smile, then away. "I started by forging city bus passes when I was seven. I wanted to get to school on time and I'd tried just about everything else."
He settles against Raylan a little more comfortably and rests his head on Raylan's shoulder with a sigh. "Then I found out people would pay for the passes, since they were good and public transportation could add up, so I sold some. Had a couple of people con the seven-year-old out of his hard-earned ill-gotten gains, and started learning how to do that, primarily so it wouldn't happen to me again. I was sharking at a pool hall before I hit puberty, placing bets with the money I got from bus passes and then driver's licenses and other fake IDs. Learned pool, started taking strangers for all they were worth. And as a result of that I got really good at running away."
This was comfortable. Nice. Casual. Like snuggling in for the evening in front of the tv but instead it was the sea and wine.
"Mm, started early, huh?" There was no rebuke in his tone. "So what you're tellin' me is that when I finally get you over a pool table, you're gonna wipe the floor with me? I do love a challenge."
No, Neal would win, flat out.
"Or foot races, apparently. But you don't run in these suits anymore, do you?"
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"Fake it until you make it but you fell in love." It was cute really. "I'm afraid my only real engagement with it is white women book clubs that I wasn't allowed to be at. Wasn't quite at box wine level, but they hit it hard. Nothin' like passion." Passion looked good on Neal. Made his eyes shine with a brightness that felt like it would light up the whole room.
"So is that the same for everythin' you were forgin'? Just seein' if you could achieve the same result?" Had Neal ever made wine?
no subject
He looks down at his lap with a small smile, then away. "I started by forging city bus passes when I was seven. I wanted to get to school on time and I'd tried just about everything else."
He settles against Raylan a little more comfortably and rests his head on Raylan's shoulder with a sigh. "Then I found out people would pay for the passes, since they were good and public transportation could add up, so I sold some. Had a couple of people con the seven-year-old out of his hard-earned ill-gotten gains, and started learning how to do that, primarily so it wouldn't happen to me again. I was sharking at a pool hall before I hit puberty, placing bets with the money I got from bus passes and then driver's licenses and other fake IDs. Learned pool, started taking strangers for all they were worth. And as a result of that I got really good at running away."
He grins at Raylan sidelong when he says that.
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"Mm, started early, huh?" There was no rebuke in his tone. "So what you're tellin' me is that when I finally get you over a pool table, you're gonna wipe the floor with me? I do love a challenge."
No, Neal would win, flat out.
"Or foot races, apparently. But you don't run in these suits anymore, do you?"
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This is comfortable. Peaceful. “I started when I was nine, but I haven’t kept my skills up the way I should. You might stand a chance.”