OPEN POST.

[ultimatums]

texting, action, tfln overflow, pic prompts, go crazy aaa go stupid aaa

Comments

@nonscriptum

[ultimatums]

[ cont'd! ]

I'm well aware of how many scars you have

[ these are not Car Thoughts To Have In A Car. time to swerve. he clicks on the radio and scrunches up his face in genuine pain at what he's forcing himself to listen to, but at least it'll clear his head. ]

You sure you can't just give me a little taster of what it is that got you imprisoned?

[nonscriptum]

[ Thank God Nate is too preoccupied eyeing his weird holding cell roommate to make any pithy, borderline-scandalous observations about that positively elegant 180. ]

trespassing charges that aren't gonna stick

i've been a good boy this year, no grand larceny or anything

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[ raylan cranks down the window and gets hit with a faceful of hot, dry air. at least it's better than just him and brad paisley. ]

Well at least there's that
I'll sleep like a baby tonight knowing you only trespassed on someone else's property
How's your new roommate doing?
I recommend that you flex your various muscles to intimidate him

[nonscriptum]

i've never had anyone tell me i'm the cause of a good night's sleep, i should submit this to ripley's believe it or not

he's looking shifty
not sure a ticket to the gun show will help with that, but i'm guessing you've never had to intimidate someone in a cell block before

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I have, but only on the other side of the bars
If I show up and you've joined a gang and got your prison tattoos I might leave you there

[ weirdly, the brad paisley and open window are combining to make him bold. ]

You've been responsible for a fair few of my best beauty sleeps, though

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don't worry, i've been told i'm not gang material
something about being too pretty and not wanting to stab people

[ The second part makes him smile so wide he has to actively temper it to keep from drawing attention to himself. They might realize he still has his phone. ]

it's the least i can do for the man who answers my distress texts.

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Wiping the sweat from my brow as we speak

[ ugh. ugh! ugh! damn you, nate. ]

I appreciate it Nate

[nonscriptum]

is that in relief or is it just that hot out?

[ ;) ]

i know.

@nonscriptum AGAIN yes im continuing BOTH no i wont be STOPPED

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[ cont'd! ]

I'm not riding anything
I'm just at my desk pretending I'm doing work
If anything I'm dangerously low to the ground on account of I can't work out how to make my chair higher

oh no...more dimestore cowboy in my inbox....................

[nonscriptum]

[ It takes him another few minutes to reply because Nate has stopped, albeit briefly, to absorb the mental image provided and get a good goddamn chuckle over the idea of Raylan looking like he's trying to sit in kids' furniture with legs as long as his. ]

is this the mild hangover talking or are you just that talented?

HOW TERRIBLE FOR YOU

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I suspect someone might've sat on it earlier and permanently altered its position
Can't prove it but I know I didn't have it this low yesterday
My knees are under my chin

well and truly suffering here

[nonscriptum]

wow, do you think someone's trying to sabotage you?
make you look unprofessional?

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Better men have tried and failed, I wouldn't worry about it

[nonscriptum]

[ Is Raylan sure he doesn't accomplish that on his own... ]

i'm not worried, i'm just wondering if you're going to need a booster seat

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Need a whole new chair, I think
This one’s ergonomically designed to slowly break my back over a number of years

@nymphic

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[ cont'd! ]

I had a phone conversation just yesterday afternoon
You're telling me I was accidentally being retro?

[trouvaille]

Was it for work?

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It was AT work
But a personal call
Yes, I make them at work. Don't be so surprised, I told you I'm a bad boy

[trouvaille]

That is a very retro inappropriate use of professional time, I'm positively shocked at you.

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Who knows what I'll do next
Go out for ice cream on company time? Maybe

[trouvaille]

You're a real maverick.

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They can't do anything to stop me
I'm too much of an asset

assassin vs lawman au thing idk man just go w it

[fogey]

[ five goes back to the commission. conditionally. so long as they save his family, fix his appearance. and, goes unsaid, so long as he can prove his loyalty.

considering he has every intention of screwing them over, it's a fair condition.

this is a timeline where he isn't so lucky as to get his hands on a clue within a day. where he works a few case files before he's asked -- there's these hits, and they really need the very best on it, just a couple of jobs, doesn't he miss getting things done directly? surely the desk job needs some spicing up. and maybe, don't you know it, but the handler might finally have some details about relocating his family to time periods safely away from the apocalypse by the time he gets back.

just don't be long, now.

so he goes. does what he does best, takes out one-two-three-four marks around tennessee, kentucky, couple in georgia before that. gets, not for the first time, the interest of local authorities; but he's a ghost. even better at working unseen, looking like a child.

doesn't have any reason to expect trouble until he's actually, somehow, literally caught red-handed. sloppy, or maybe he's just getting old, or is something of a dulled blade, now that he's had a taste of home again.

doesn't matter right now. what matters is: it's a single man, not a whole team, and five is incriminatingly bloodstained, too near the scene. he'll jump, soon enough, just needs a distraction first.

he says, ]

It's not what it looks like.

[ it's exactly what it looks like.]

KICKS IN HERE

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[ The thing nobody tells you about being a marshal is that a lot of it, the day to day, gets to be boring as all hell. And not in the stuck-in-the-office, too-much-paperwork sense of boring; it's just all the same. Criminals in Kentucky are, by and large, very stupid, skipping town while on probation or running from county to county after they robbed a convenience store of a hundred dollars. It's all the same, and it's killing him. So when he gets a file on his desk for some mystery assassin who's been dotting from state to state without a trace, Raylan throws himself into it. This doesn't smell like a backwoods hick from Harlan; this is something new.

When he actually finds the guy, it's pure dumb luck. He'd been in the area, and maybe he's a couple bourbons down at this point but he's worked under the influence before and it's never been a problem (except for when it has). Art would have a field day if he knew about this. But in Raylan's defence, he's not really under the influence. It takes more than a few fingers of bourbon to get him past that thin brown line.

Anyway – here he is. And he's trying not to stare, for some reason, as if this is somehow embarrassing for one or both of them. It kind of is, because obviously there's been some sort of mistake. He's looking at a six year old.

Raylan props his hand on his hip and tips his head a little to one side, and decides to be diplomatic. ]

You won't mind if I ask for clarification on what it is, then.

oh my god where did september go

[fogey]

You can ask.

[ the mark was -- john ferrer, a local bartender, no one anyone from out of town has heard of. tall and strong, which might mean something if five weren't very, very good at his job. he'd stabbed the poor bastard, a one stroke kill, and some of the blood's still drying on his sleeve, on his cuffs.

if he weren't still in ferrer's house, there's a good chance no one would've ever connected the dots.

then again, they still might not. the man in front of him clearly can't believe his eyes. isn't likely to jump to the conclusion a thirteen year old kid just killed a man in cold blood.

then, abruptly, he shrugs. ]

I heard a commotion in here. Came to see what was going on.