OPEN.

[poleaxed]

ill put an img here l8r.

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[ultimatums]

"Marshals? No. Long as you don't rob a bank right in front of my eyes, I don't give a shit what you do in your free time."

[poleaxed]

She grins. "So you could go to a race and cheer me on?" He won't, but the fantasy is nice.

[ultimatums]

"Sure, if I got nothin' else goin' on. There much of that in Lexington?"

[poleaxed]

"If you got shit going on at 2AM, that's your problem," she says. "There's always racing if there's a university." She moves her finger over the brim of an invisible hat and taps her nose.

[ultimatums]

Raylan's lips drawing up a little at the corners at her bit of theatre. "So are you any good?"

[poleaxed]

A real light enters her eyes, lightens her expression: this is something she's passionate about, and her enjoyment lifts her spirit, even if all she's enjoying is talking about it. "Most racers can't work their own cars. Racing got carpetbagged by rich kids a while back. But it's different when you drive the car and you made it, you can really feel it. So... yeah, I'm better'n average."

[ultimatums]

"Makes sense," he says, nodding evenly. "What kinda car d'you drive?"

[poleaxed]

"A '87 Chevy Capri. I got it on sale at a police auction. Kept the paint job and everything." She speaks in the glowing tones one would use to describe a child. "Everything's just flatbed inside. Light as air."

[ultimatums]

Raylan props an elbow on the bartop, naturally leaning into her space with the changed angle. "You really like cars, huh."

[poleaxed]

She leans into him, excited to meet the challenge (it's always a challenge). "And cowboys."

[ultimatums]

"Well," he says, voice low, "not sure if I count, per se. I just wear a hat."

[poleaxed]

She reaches over to tap his hat on the bar. "I'm saying we share a common interest, but I can't stop you from picturing yourself, huh?"

[ultimatums]

"Who says I like cowboys?" He does, but that's not the point.

[poleaxed]

She picks up his hat, puts it on her head. "Just a hunch."

[ultimatums]

"I tried it on and it fit," he says, tapping the brim so it tilts down over her eyes.

[poleaxed]

She laughs, unable to stop herself. He's charming. She can't understand why he's trying to be charming to her-- maybe she's just easily charmed by his bullshit. It's not like that's never happened before. "That tends to happen before you buy a hat, yeah. What's your favorite cowboy movie, Mister Marshal?"

She tilts the brim back up, eyes bright despite herself. Her hair is mussed around her forehead, a thick strand falling over one eye.

[ultimatums]

"That's a big question," he says slowly, clearly giving it some real thought. "Well, I s'pose you can't go wrong with Tombstone."

[poleaxed]

They have, perhaps, too many shared interests. While Tombstone isn't her favorite, she's watched it enough to know several lines by heart-- it's not her fault they play it in hotels a lot. She won't quote it to him, though. She's easy one way, but she won't let herself be easy the other-- the way women sparkle on dates, desperate to soak up affection. She sips her drink and gestures for another.

"We all got our patriotism somewhere. I guess yours is more for smart-talking lawmen."

[ultimatums]

"I guess that's right. Where's yours?"

[poleaxed]

"Lonesome Dove." That being the name of a little town in Texas answers two questions in one.

[ultimatums]

"Yeah, I liked that," he says with a slightly wistful smile. "With – uh, the lawyer guy from The Godfather, right? How old were you when that came out?" She must've been pretty young.

[poleaxed]

"Two," she shrugs. "But I didn't watch it 'til I was older."

[ultimatums]

Raylan purses his lips for a moment. There's a very clear thought in his mind that he should probably find someone his own age, and then he ignores it. This is the part of his brain that's probably leading Art to an early grave.

"I watched it the same year I left here. Stands out pretty clear in my mind."

[poleaxed]

Joan smiles, not like a cat with a canary, but like a cat who knows it's going to get one and wants to rub it in. "And how old were you then?"

[ultimatums]

The expression on her face is sort of unreadable – or, no, it's not that. He can read it pretty clear, but it's hard to determine what she's so pleased about exactly, unless she likes an excuse to make jokes about a man's age. "Nineteen when I left. Dug coal for a while after I finished school, but there wasn't a whole lot keepin' me here."