Deputy's the title given to everyone serving field duty in the marshal service. [He sounds a very little bit testy.] Never was particularly interested in politics or the desk.
[And he's been stuck at the same rank for seven years now, which is a tidbit he's not going to share. He lets her put pressure on the wound, looking back at the man on his stomach in the bathroom.]
You hear that, Chaney? You and your pet mongrels decided to try a fed'ral on for size and paid for it. [Raylan closes his eyes, trying to get his train of thought back on track.] I'll do it. If you want, you go on and run. Keys are in my pocket, you can get your bag and be on your way.
...Oh. [A beat.] Still, makes you sound like some kind of junior, Boy Scout wannabe thing. Just saying.
[Lia seriously considers his offer - not that she hadn't already been thinking the same exact thing already and not that she'd need those keys when she could just bust open the trunk on her own, but. Now he's put it out there and he'd be okay with it, or he says he'd be okay with it, and that's just as good, right?
...
God-fucking-damn it.
She looks behind her before stretching her leg to try and drag her jeans over from where she dropped them on the floor. Once they're close enough, she ducks down, one hand still on his shoulder while the other snatches them up. Then it's a quick, messy bit of moving him enough to tie the legs around his shoulder before she heads over to the phone. She almost sits down on the bed, but then just paces back and forth after jabbing the right numbers.Uh, yeah, we kind of really need an ambulance and some cops over here. There was shooting and this one dude's really bad off, Dep. Marshall Raylan
( ... )
[He can't help the little chuckle that escapes at her dialogue with the people on the other side of the phone. He's starting to get that whitewash tone to the world, and thinks maybe he's lost a bit more blood than he realized, when there's an noise from the bathroom and the sound of something snapping and Chaney's on his feet with broken cuffs on either wrist.
Raylan shifts to his feet and empties his clip into the man. He has a fresh clip in place and a round chambered before the corpse hits the floor.]
Five dead. [He sways, sits himself back down next to the TV, and holsters his gun again. He'll have to ask someone to clean it while he's hospitalized.] You all right?
[Lia whips around and nearly drops the phone in panic, then drops herself to the floor behind the bed once the shooting starts again. The operator's yelling in her ear all the time - ma'am, ma'am, what's going on, are you still there, ma'am - until she peeks over the edge of the bed to see Chaney all laid out. Clearing her throat, she answers in a small, strained voice.]
...Swap that around to five dead guys, please. [Then she looks back at Raylan and curses.] Shitsticks, okay, you like, seriously - seriously need to get that ambulance here.
[Then she drags the phone along as far as it'll go, stretching the line, then the twisty little phone cord before placing the receiver on the floor. All drawn out, it's almost right by his chair, so it'll do. She tightens the pants-knot around his shoulder before yelling back at the tinny operator.]
Look, lady, if I'd hung up, you'd hear the little dial tone, so quit asking. [Turning back to Raylan, she scoffs. She might be focusing a biiiiiit too much on this Macguyver'd bandage, but it's
( ... )
[He frowns at her.] Easier with a proper stance. I could pull sitting down, if I had to.
[Raylan inspects his shoulder and is somewhat alarmed to see his shirt is blood-soaked well past the his collarbone. Fortunately, he can hear the sound of sirens at long last.
Well, he hopes those are sirens, and not some kind of auditory hallucination or something.] What'd these boys want, other than a fight? You went and ran like you knew who they were.
[Her ears prick up at the sirens, and she cocks her head to get a better bead.] 'Bout freaking time. [Because she's getting perilously close to the end of her rope calm-wise and is seriously just wanting a nice corner to huddle up in. But she's still got some line yet, so she'll make it work. /Tim Gunn glasses-push.] Dude, pretty sure the 'had to' came along when, like, your arm's gonna fall off.
[Hyperbole. Lia abuses it like a trailer park housewife. It's a problem.]
...I could tell what they were, and that they weren't here for glad-handing. Kind of enough for me to know to get the hell out. [She fidgets, eying the phone on the floor and keeping her voice low. Most-likely Minimum Wage Mary does not need to be hearing this.] Probs just being not where I'm supposed to, or. Something. Fuck if I know.
[And then, because this is so very much not what she wants to be talking about right now - SUBJECT CHANGE.You realize it's gonna make you look super sketch having a chick with a definite lack of clothes on in a motel like this, right
( ... )
[He blinks at her. Processes that last bit and makes an annoyed sound.] Well. Would you like your pants back? Because as I see it, I don't have much I can do about that at the moment.
[His head is pounding. He closes his eyes but forces himself to keep talking, to focus on her and on consciousness.] How's that work, like, you can smell them? Feel them? It a psychic sort of thing? Met a tarot card reader once, down in Florida, told me I was psychic. Matter of fact she said I was 'followed by the gray wolf' or some kind of nonsense like that. I suppose she was more right than wrong, though, wasn't she. Nice girl. Made some bad decisions, but she was pretty and knew what she wanted.
[Raylan squints at Georgiann. "Georgiann."] Bit like you in fact. What is your name? Your real one?
Uh, ew? Not really aiming to look like I drowned in the red tide. You can keep these. Call it a gift.
[That was supposed to be a joke, except for where there's seriously a whole lot of blood going on here. ...And he's. Still going on and talking in that totally calm kind of voice and telling stories and. What even.]
Dunno about any telepathic junk, but deffo on the smelling them. It's- I don't know. [She bites her lip, pulling at a loose bit of skin. Compared to the first time she said it, there's a whole lot less bitchiness when she says:] You don't know factoid number one about me, okay. How's about we keep it that way - assuming you don't kick it in like, fifteen minutes anyway. George'll keep.
Until you get down to Lexington it will. [The sirens scream to a halt outside and uniformed personnel pour through the broken door. He finally relaxes, patting her arm with a hand he doesn't realize is smeared with blood.]
Remember what happened, keep a clear head and only give the details they ask for. You'll be just fine.
[She's about to stare some more because after all this, he's still gonna take her to Hicksville? What the fuck, man. But then the cavalry arrives and the medics pull her away so they can get some proper work done.
Then she's being taken aside by the uni-cops for questioning after giving her a blanket. Huddling up inside it, it's a lot easier to stick to Raylan's advice than she'd thought. Mainly because she finds it hard to talk, period, so the blabbing thing isn't even an issue.
Eventually it fleshes out to being taken in custody to the room, the guys beating the door down while she hid in the bathroom, then tons of gunfire and snarling until she kneed him. The only part she active lies about is that Chaney was the one who ripped her shirt, which is the least she could blame him for, really.
Somehow it all flies enough for the cops to buy, and eventually somebody gets her some pants - which she's super grateful for. Said gratitude lasts until they drag her back to the hospital and cuff her to a chair in Raylan's room....Custodial
( ... )
[Raylan is drugged. He's very drugged. He's drugged enough to possibly have told Art he loves him, earlier, and while not untrue in the Manly Friendship sense it's still not something you tell a person. If he even did. He's not sure and he's sure as hell not going to ask.
So it takes him a while to realize Lia's even there, let alone orient on where in the room she's sitting.] Oh. Hello.
[He should say something else.] I see they didn't collar you.
[There's a thought forming. Slowly. Slowly.] Wouldn't happen to know what they did with my hat? Gotten rather fond of it, over the years.
[He inspects the bandage on his arm and tries to be upset, or tense, or worried about what might happen come the full moon.
...Mostly he just wishes he had one of those little buttons that Boyd had, so he could decide how high he wants to be.] How'll I know? With this wolf business?
Preeeetty sure they decided it was too blooded and bitted up, so. Put it out of its misery. Probs been taken out with the rest of the hazardous waste already. Another thing you're welcome about.
[She's entirely pulling his chain, since his hat is tucked under his clothes on the other chair in the room. Because this is how she does things. Even when, y'know, the owner of said chain is drugged to the freaking gills.
But then the fun kind of dies and she suddenly decides her fingernails are fucking fascinating.] ...Full moon, I guess. [She peers up at him through her eyelashes and she feels like she should apologize or something. Even though this was totally not her fault. ...It's not, okay - he's the one who dragged her all the way to where she could get sniffed out like this. Damn it, stop feeling guilty.]
[For a second he looks lost, because that's his hat. He's had it for long enough now that he doesn't feel right without it. It's as much a symbol of his authority as the badge and gun, and hell, he's been through life-or-death scenarios with that hat. The superstitious corner of his mind says he needs it, like it's a lucky tie or a security blanket.
He orients on Lia again, sees her looking like a guilty kid, and tries to pick himself up out of the sudden gloom enough to reassure her.] I'll cope. Who knows, maybe you'll be close by enough to... walk me through it.
[If he sounds confused, well. It's because he really has no idea what to say.] Likely as not, they'll let me sign you out for a day. Say you need to visit a sick relative.
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[And he's been stuck at the same rank for seven years now, which is a tidbit he's not going to share. He lets her put pressure on the wound, looking back at the man on his stomach in the bathroom.]
You hear that, Chaney? You and your pet mongrels decided to try a fed'ral on for size and paid for it. [Raylan closes his eyes, trying to get his train of thought back on track.] I'll do it. If you want, you go on and run. Keys are in my pocket, you can get your bag and be on your way.
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[Lia seriously considers his offer - not that she hadn't already been thinking the same exact thing already and not that she'd need those keys when she could just bust open the trunk on her own, but. Now he's put it out there and he'd be okay with it, or he says he'd be okay with it, and that's just as good, right?
...
God-fucking-damn it.
She looks behind her before stretching her leg to try and drag her jeans over from where she dropped them on the floor. Once they're close enough, she ducks down, one hand still on his shoulder while the other snatches them up. Then it's a quick, messy bit of moving him enough to tie the legs around his shoulder before she heads over to the phone. She almost sits down on the bed, but then just paces back and forth after jabbing the right numbers.Uh, yeah, we kind of really need an ambulance and some cops over here. There was shooting and this one dude's really bad off, Dep. Marshall Raylan ( ... )
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Raylan shifts to his feet and empties his clip into the man. He has a fresh clip in place and a round chambered before the corpse hits the floor.]
Five dead. [He sways, sits himself back down next to the TV, and holsters his gun again. He'll have to ask someone to clean it while he's hospitalized.] You all right?
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...Swap that around to five dead guys, please. [Then she looks back at Raylan and curses.] Shitsticks, okay, you like, seriously - seriously need to get that ambulance here.
[Then she drags the phone along as far as it'll go, stretching the line, then the twisty little phone cord before placing the receiver on the floor. All drawn out, it's almost right by his chair, so it'll do. She tightens the pants-knot around his shoulder before yelling back at the tinny operator.]
Look, lady, if I'd hung up, you'd hear the little dial tone, so quit asking. [Turning back to Raylan, she scoffs. She might be focusing a biiiiiit too much on this Macguyver'd bandage, but it's ( ... )
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[Raylan inspects his shoulder and is somewhat alarmed to see his shirt is blood-soaked well past the his collarbone. Fortunately, he can hear the sound of sirens at long last.
Well, he hopes those are sirens, and not some kind of auditory hallucination or something.] What'd these boys want, other than a fight? You went and ran like you knew who they were.
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[Hyperbole. Lia abuses it like a trailer park housewife. It's a problem.]
...I could tell what they were, and that they weren't here for glad-handing. Kind of enough for me to know to get the hell out. [She fidgets, eying the phone on the floor and keeping her voice low. Most-likely Minimum Wage Mary does not need to be hearing this.] Probs just being not where I'm supposed to, or. Something. Fuck if I know.
[And then, because this is so very much not what she wants to be talking about right now - SUBJECT CHANGE.You realize it's gonna make you look super sketch having a chick with a definite lack of clothes on in a motel like this, right ( ... )
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[His head is pounding. He closes his eyes but forces himself to keep talking, to focus on her and on consciousness.] How's that work, like, you can smell them? Feel them? It a psychic sort of thing? Met a tarot card reader once, down in Florida, told me I was psychic. Matter of fact she said I was 'followed by the gray wolf' or some kind of nonsense like that. I suppose she was more right than wrong, though, wasn't she. Nice girl. Made some bad decisions, but she was pretty and knew what she wanted.
[Raylan squints at Georgiann. "Georgiann."] Bit like you in fact. What is your name? Your real one?
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[That was supposed to be a joke, except for where there's seriously a whole lot of blood going on here. ...And he's. Still going on and talking in that totally calm kind of voice and telling stories and. What even.]
Dunno about any telepathic junk, but deffo on the smelling them. It's- I don't know. [She bites her lip, pulling at a loose bit of skin. Compared to the first time she said it, there's a whole lot less bitchiness when she says:] You don't know factoid number one about me, okay. How's about we keep it that way - assuming you don't kick it in like, fifteen minutes anyway. George'll keep.
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Remember what happened, keep a clear head and only give the details they ask for. You'll be just fine.
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Then she's being taken aside by the uni-cops for questioning after giving her a blanket. Huddling up inside it, it's a lot easier to stick to Raylan's advice than she'd thought. Mainly because she finds it hard to talk, period, so the blabbing thing isn't even an issue.
Eventually it fleshes out to being taken in custody to the room, the guys beating the door down while she hid in the bathroom, then tons of gunfire and snarling until she kneed him. The only part she active lies about is that Chaney was the one who ripped her shirt, which is the least she could blame him for, really.
Somehow it all flies enough for the cops to buy, and eventually somebody gets her some pants - which she's super grateful for. Said gratitude lasts until they drag her back to the hospital and cuff her to a chair in Raylan's room....Custodial ( ... )
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So it takes him a while to realize Lia's even there, let alone orient on where in the room she's sitting.] Oh. Hello.
[He should say something else.] I see they didn't collar you.
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[She jerks a chin in his general direction, then snorts a laugh while rolling her eyes.]
Yeah, also managed to talk us out of flea dips. So you're welcome for that.
[But she's still pretty glad to see he's not dead or dying or anything like that, and this is how she gets that across.]
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[He inspects the bandage on his arm and tries to be upset, or tense, or worried about what might happen come the full moon.
...Mostly he just wishes he had one of those little buttons that Boyd had, so he could decide how high he wants to be.] How'll I know? With this wolf business?
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[She's entirely pulling his chain, since his hat is tucked under his clothes on the other chair in the room. Because this is how she does things. Even when, y'know, the owner of said chain is drugged to the freaking gills.
But then the fun kind of dies and she suddenly decides her fingernails are fucking fascinating.] ...Full moon, I guess. [She peers up at him through her eyelashes and she feels like she should apologize or something. Even though this was totally not her fault. ...It's not, okay - he's the one who dragged her all the way to where she could get sniffed out like this. Damn it, stop feeling guilty.]
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He orients on Lia again, sees her looking like a guilty kid, and tries to pick himself up out of the sudden gloom enough to reassure her.] I'll cope. Who knows, maybe you'll be close by enough to... walk me through it.
[If he sounds confused, well. It's because he really has no idea what to say.] Likely as not, they'll let me sign you out for a day. Say you need to visit a sick relative.
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