Raylan Givens (marshalgivens) wrote in valloic, @ 2020-08-06 10:35:00 |
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Entry tags: | !: action/thread/log, ~player: k, ₴ inactive: raylan givens, ₴ inactive: wynonna earp |
Weird shit came with the job but this was beyond anything Raylan was equipped to deal with. He spent a good part of the morning after arrival tapping numbers into his phone, each one ending in a robotic voice informing him that number didn’t exist. This was neither a result of being hit over the head last night (was it still last night when that happened?) or finally losing what was left of his mind. If the world wasn’t full of mystery enough, other worlds existed to add on. After all that attempting to reach home and the gradual acceptance that he could not or it wouldn’t be easy if he had the chance, the offered drink was just what he needed. He gave the room a casual once over as he stepped inside. Of everything otherworldly about the place, of course the bar would be one of the places that still felt familiar even if he hadn’t stepped foot in this one before. Just enough of the highlights that were part and parcel of most bars he spent time in these days, appealing to the everyday man just looking for a place to drink in peace or close to it. Wynonna - still a little strange that a new friend shared a name with his ex - wasn’t hard to find. Attractive no doubt but she was also one of those who had a ‘take no shit’ presence he could appreciate. That and she was the only one who seemed remotely interested in his appearance, most of those drawn by the door opening already looking back to their company and drinks. He followed her cue, heading over to sink down on one of the stools at the bar while she saved her spot at the pool table and came to join him. The corner of his mouth quirked up in a slight smile. “I may have to declare you my hero for offering this drink tonight after the day I’ve had,” he said, tilting his head slightly to indicate the bar in front of them. “What are you drinking?”
As she reached the bar, she set the empty tumbler down and gestured to the bartender for another double with a grin and a wink before she turned her attention to her new friend. Vallo was not a place she was sure she would ever get used to (and she hoped she wouldn’t have to), but Raylan felt familiar. Not in the sense that they’d met previously, but just everything about him seemed to parallel her own life to an extent. She turned to lean her back against the bar and lifted her arms, elbows resting against it as she looked at him. Something of a grimace crossed her mind when he said he was going to declare her his hero, but she didn’t comment on it and let it pass as quickly as it happened with a small smile. “Whiskey neat. S’not so bad. I should probably ease up so I’m not a total shit show here in 45 minutes, but,” she said, shrugging a little nonchalantly. “Your first drink’s free, so go top shelf if you want. But then the next one’s on me since I haven’t blown through that thousand bucks they set me up with yet.” She snorted a little and turned enough to reach for the glass that had been refilled, lifting it in thanks to the bartender before turning back toward him and taking a small sip. “Honestly it’s the least I can do after fucking up your name so many times,” she added with a laugh from behind her glass.
The reaction to calling her a ‘hero’ wasn’t unfamiliar. He found plenty in his life that shied away from the title, himself included. What he did, what they did, it wasn’t to be the hero, it was because someone had to stand up and do what was necessary. Deep thinking for just a joke about offering him a drink. The faint smile at his own thoughts was quick to appear and then disappear. “Then that’s what I’ll have.” Top shelf or bottom shelf, it didn’t matter much as it had some kind of kick to it. Enough to take the edge off. “I’m none too picky about what shelf it comes from though top shelf feels like putting on airs when you’re used to moonshine made out in someone’s shed,” he added in mild amusement. As the bartender came over to grab her glass, he murmured that he’d have what she was having. Once he’d gone off to pour drinks, Raylan shifted on the stool to better face her. “Come on now, don’t be so hard on yourself. We just met. I had a teacher in middle school calling me ‘Raymond’ all year long. Figure he either hated the name or just didn’t like me, coulda been either one.” He took the glass set in front of him but didn’t drink yet. “‘s long as you don’t call me Raymond or Ray, believe me, it’s fine. Been called a lot worse anyway.”
Wynonna settled against the edge of the bar easily enough, naturally, and took another sip of her drink before holding it up to him in a sort of ‘cheers’. “Would never dream of it, Ryan.” There was a playful wink and then she giggled a little before turning back around and climbing onto a stool beside him, glass still in hand. “So what’s up, how’re you finding Vallo? It’s fuckin’ weird, right?” she commented, an eyebrow raised questioningly at him. “I’m not sure how long it’s going to take for me to wrap my head around what’s happened, but so far I’m on day… uh,” she went quiet as she thought over the days she’d been there already, “four? Five? Something like that, I can’t really remember. Still kind of feels like day one, but maybe that’ll change. I hope it does.” She stopped herself and made a face as if she’d tasted something tart, crinkling her nose as she looked over at him again. “Sorry, I’m a motormouth sometimes. I just haven’t really… I dunno. Connected with anyone yet? Except the one guy I already know from back home, but our timelines aren’t synced up so that’s been interesting. To say the least. Please tell me to shut up at any point, I promise I won’t be offended.”
“Now that’s a new one on me. Ain’t been called a ‘Ryan’ yet.” His glass clinked against hers to complete the toast before he took a drink. “It’s very fuckin’ weird, I will admit. I thought I knew weird with the job and all but safe to say we didn’t have to deal with ending up in another world entirely with no way home.” It sounded like the plot from one of those books Tim took with him on his lunch breaks and stakeouts. “The movie made it sound like we should get settled in. Not something I like when I didn’t choose it.” At least when the USMS sent him back to Kentucky, he had the option to quit. Not that he ever would have taken it but it was still there. He set the glass down and removed his hat, setting it on the bartop next to the glass before he ran a hand through his hair to kick whatever flatness it left behind. “Don’t apologize. You want to talk, you go ahead and talk. Guy I knew from home, he could use twenty words where two would do and some complained you’d need a thesaurus to understand him to boot. So far you’re doing all right.”
“First time for everything, eh? I coulda called you Waylon. Should’ve. It crossed my mind and now I feel like I missed a solid opportunity. Dammit.” She grinned over at him and then went quiet as he talked, listening and taking small sips of her whiskey. “Tell me about it. I opted not to watch the video so I missed that. Got the hint with the money and the apartment though, seemed kind of… finalized.” Something akin to sadness crossed her features then but she brushed it off and offered him a small smile. “Not here to get deep in my feelings about anything in particular though.” No matter how badly those feelings were trying their damndest to surface at any given moment. Oof. “Want to hit some balls around,” she asked with a nod of her head back toward the pool table, “and tell me more about where you came from? I pinky swear I’ll do the same. But we might as well have a little fun while we’re doing it.”
“Which would just make me think of Waylon Jennings and I’d take that as a compliment. Man made some damn good music.” His kind of genre ran more to blues rock and southern rock but he could appreciate the good old days of country before it became heavily commercialized and better fitting to a pop station. “Honestly? I’m still waitin’ for the string attached to the money to make itself known. Never been a time in my life where that kind of money just falls into your lap without something else followin’ along behind it.” Wynonna’s thoughts on the matter had occurred to him as well, that they wouldn’t be expending those resources if it wasn’t a long term or permanent situation. He gently brushed her elbow in a friendly tap, giving her a slightly smile. “Maybe we are stuck here but hey, couple days for you and my first day and we’re makin’ friends? I don’t know about you but that’s kind of a miracle already,” he stated, giving her the opening to turn the conversation towards a more light-hearted subject. “You know, a game or two sounds like a good way to unwind from the day.” Raylan grabbed his drink and rose off the barstool, staring to head for the table she’d been at when he arrived. There was a moment of hesitation before he turned to grab his hat off the bartop, deftly settling it on his head again. “Harlan County. Kentucky. Coal mining country. Used to work in the mines as a teenager before I left for college,” he said, walking backwards towards the table. “How about this? Each turn comes with a tidbit?”
Oh, the string attached to the money. That was something that had crossed her mind at least once, but she tried not to think about it. Most people seemed resigned to the fact that everyone who appeared there was stuck, but there had to be people actively working to try and figure out a way back, right? That can’t have just been something people gave up on so quickly? The brush to her elbow brought on a small sense of comfort and while Wynonna wasn’t one to easily trust new people, she couldn’t shake that there was just something about Raylan. “Miracle’s right. I’m shit at making new friends, so I’ll take it where I can get it.” Even if that was a whole other plane of existence or whatever this was. She moved to follow him and paused as he reached for his hat, smirking a little before walking back toward the pool table and looking over at him as he maneuvered his way backwards in the same direction. “Kentucky, eh? I’ve been a lot of places but that ain’t one of them.” She took another drink from her glass before setting it on the edge of the table, grabbing her pool cue up again. “I think a tidbit for each turn sounds fair. I’ll re-rack.”
“I get called an asshole a lot. Sometimes a dick. If I were a less secure person or had more feelings, they might be hurt,” he stated in faux concern, placing a hand over his heart. There were a few other terms slung his way relating to his extranatural abilities but when it came to casually dropping that little fact about himself into conversation, he’d come close several times that day in the natural flow of conversation and quickly shut it down. Even with Wynonna, whom he was already feeling an easy camaraderie with. He grabbed a cue from the rack on the wall and a square of chalk, leaning back against the wall. “I know, I know. You were expecting somewhere more northern, right?” Sometimes he spent so much time in the presence of fellow Kentuckyians that the accented drawls became the norm and the lack thereof was highly noticeable. Raylan scooped up the cue ball and headed for the opposite end of the table. “I think I get to break since I shared first.”
“Aw, you? A dick? I’d never.” She grinned and laughed a little, shaking her head a bit. “Seriously though, I completely understand,” she added, her eyes going a little wide in a sarcastic sort of way as she stared at a spot on the table for a moment before looking back up at him, grabbing pool balls out of pockets and setting them on the green felt. “I’m kind of a fuck up with a big mouth, so not a lot of people love me, y’know?” Wynonna shrugged and racked the balls quietly, making sure they were steady before lifting the wooden triangle up and hanging it back along the side of the table where it belonged. She moved out of the way and even gave a small bow toward him, gesturing that the table was his. “By all means, go right ahead.” Grinning, she used the pool cue in her hand to hold her weight, leaning a little as she watched him. “Not sure what I expected, but I guess Kentucky doesn’t really surprise me that much. Do you remember what you were doing when you ended up here?”
“I can absolutely be a dick when I want to be but my redeeming grace is at least I can admit it,” Raylan pointed out with no small degree of self-deprecating humor. It went along with the thick skin that built up over the years, a way to soften the blows. The humor in his expression softened as she continued. The fuck up. That could go a lot of ways but more often than not, it ended up with exile in a small town. The clacking of the balls settling into place filled the silence while he let his thought lay itself out before he spoke his mind. “Can I be honest with you? I get that I just met you but I am fairly good at reading people and you seem more like a person who had to figure her way through shitty circumstance rather than an outright fuck up.” Once Wynonna was done with the racking, Raylan leaned down and lined up the cue ball with the neat little triangle at the other end of the table. “I got Texas a lot when I was in Miami but I think that’s more people forget the existence of the other states when they got that big one right there,” he said dryly. Satisfied with his shot, he drew the cue back and tapped the ball, the resulting reaction being balls flying every which way and bouncing at angles from the felt sides of the table. “Vamp escaped a prisoner transport so they sent us in to track him down, bring ‘im back. He couldn’t make me get lost so he took what I think was a skillet to my head in the resulting tussle.” He rubbed at the spot on the back of his head, brow furrowing. “At least that’s what it feels like.” Shot taken, he stepped back to lean against the table where he’d left his whiskey. “Believe it’s your turn, Ms. Wynonna.”
“Mm?” she sort of questioned when he asked if he could be honest. An eyebrow perked slightly and then she gave a small, nervous sort of laugh. “Well. If we’re being honest, I figured my way through those shitty circumstances by doing some fucked up things, so.” Wynonna’s shoulders lifted and dropped again in another shrug. “There’s been a lot of growing up done in the last few years though, I’ll say that much.” Her eyes fell on the table, watching as he lined up his shot and took it, the clack of the balls damn near echoing in her head as they scattered across the table top. She was listening to him, but the whiskey was going to her head and that made it easy for her to get lost in her own thoughts. Or at least drift in and out of them. But when she heard the word ‘vamp’, well -- that definitely got her attention. She lifted her eyes and narrowed them a little, the way a person does when they’re just not quite sure they heard what they definitely heard. “Vamp?” she asked, her voice softer. “As in vampire? Holy shitballs.” Well, guess that couldn’t surprise her too much, huh? “Wonder if your vampires are anything like mine.” The comment was casual as she moved to where the cue ball was and pondered over her options. Finally she figured out what hit she wanted to take, cracking the white ball and watching it sink a solid purple ball in a corner pocket. Then she paused and ‘ugh’ed softly. “Wait, does that mean I have to keep talking?”
“But we talking fucked up like beating the shit out of the guy shit talking you all the time or accidentally creating a criminal empire to deal with a lack of self-worth because there is a big difference between the kinds of fucked up.” Not that he was an expert but there was an unspoken agreement that most of them coming out of the hollers of Harlan County came some kind of messed up. “The world taking a boot to your ass does that sometimes.” Raylan left it at that with a tilt of his head, the brief widening of his eyes. At first he was prepared for one of two reactions, either Wynonna being from a place where they didn’t exist (because those existed now) or one of those that heard about ‘em but never had the pleasure - or displeasure depending on the vampire. He didn’t expect her wondering if their kinds were similar. That was so goddamn strange to think of. “Hate silver, mildly allergic to sunlight, can be kind of condescending when they’re older?” he asked dryly. “Good with the creation and sale of mind-bending medications?” She managed to sink one before they got a round under their belts, an expression of respect flickering across his features. “No, I think you get to keep shooting but you still haven’t done your fact so ante up,” he said, pointing at her. “So now that you know where I’m from, it’s your turn.”
Her gaze had lifted just long enough to catch his reaction to her words inquiring about if their vampires were similar at all and she couldn’t help the grin that pulled at the corners of her mouth. “I don’t know about silver, but ours aren’t allergic to sunlight though a wood stake or bullet tends to do the trick. Though my gun dusted ‘em.” A pause. “Damn, I miss that thing.” She let out a sigh, though exaggerated before moving around the table to line up another shot. “Are your vampires able to do like… funky mind-mush shit where they’re able to make you their little minion before eating your face? Or is that what the medicine is for?” The shot was taken after the question and missed, though the ball she was aiming to sink came awfully close. “Right, okay. I’m from a little town called Purgatory - think I told you that already. My family settled there a long ass time ago but mainly because we had to.” There was another pause as she thought over her words, smirking a little. She knew her last name was recognizable, so she wasn’t entirely prone to just giving it out if she didn’t need to. “My great-great-grandpappy was a bit of an outlaw back in the day and wound up getting a curse placed on his head. And the rest of his family until the curse is broken. It’s a wild ride, let me tell you.”
“Only thing a bullet does to ours is make ‘em complain louder. Stake works, so does removing the head. Then they wither all up to their actual age, piece of jerky laying there.” Some crumbling not long after and it was dust in the wind. That made for an easier cleanup but the paperwork was worse. “That sounds like one hell of a gun,” he mused. “Nah, the medicine is usually some kind of drug they’re peddling. Fighting for turf with the natural - human - crime families. Not all of them, they vary like the rest of us. They do have a way with influencing people though. Pisses ‘em off when they run into an immune.” Once her shot missed he was back on his feet and prowling around the table, looking for an angle to strike at. “It sounds like a wild ride. Hell, it sounds like one of those old western novels I used to check out of the library. Right down to the name of the town.” He glanced up at Wynonna from the table. “Sounds like a terrible name for the town,” he added, grinning.
The only thing worse than a group of vampires in general would be a vampire mob and Wynonna cringed a little as he explained. Well, she sure didn’t envy him having to deal with that. Moving away from the table to let him explore his options with a shot, she found herself at her glass of whiskey again and took a small drink from it. “I have a feeling those western novels might’ve been a little too on the dot. Big fan of westerns?” Of course he was. Look at him. And the fact that he became a lawman? It was clear there was a certain type he idolized, even if he wouldn’t come right out and say as such. “The name is kind of appropriate, I’ll give it that much. It’s a place that kind of makes a person feel stuck - or literally if you’re a Revenant. Though not so much now, poor bastards.” Her voice trailed off as she took another sip and then set her glass back down.
“I think they took a little bit of creative license with history but it made for a good tale or two.” Raylan leaned down, resting one hand on the green felt with the tip of the pool cue a scant inch or two behind the cue ball. One eye shut so he could focus on the two striped balls sitting together near the farthest pocket. Her question earned a soft laugh and he drew the cue back. The cue ball hit the two striped, sending them rolling in opposite directions. One rolled towards the middle pocket, slowing, slowing...stopping so close to the pocket that a breath could knock it in. He stood up, groaning quietly. “C’mon.” He reached past her to grab his drink. “I read a lot when I was a kid. The stories take you away from the bad, let you go anywhere, do anything.” Something that sounded ridiculous to him now but as a child, it was a saving grace and maybe a reason why he’d grown up to become the man he did. “Doc Holliday was one of my heroes, him and Wyatt Earp.” And now the man was walking around Vallo though Raylan wasn’t sure what to make about the vague deal with a woman he’d mentioned. Still it hadn’t tarnished too much of the heroism left over from more naive years. “So you’re tellin’ me that you had undead demons trapped in a town called Purgatory?” Raylan leaned sideways slightly so he could get a better look at the woman beside him. “Ain’t that a little on the nose?”
Watching the balls shoot off each other in different directions and one come so close but not quite made her laugh and even throw a hand up in a sort of victory. But she lowered her arm and quieted her laughter as he reached past her, clearing her throat a bit and smirking at him. She’d opened her mouth to respond, but as soon as Doc and Wyatt’s names slipped out she damn near choked on her spit and took another sip of her whiskey to try and cover. “Mmm. Mhm, yep,” she said with a bit of a nod to acknowledge it. “Have you had a chance to meet Doc yet? I saw you two talking and your reaction was delightful, I must say. He’s the, uh, one person around here that I know.” She said it kind of quickly, though she wasn’t sure why she was trying to hide it at that point, setting her glass back down to focus on what ball she wanted to try and sink. She didn’t end up moving too far, nearly turning around and bending over to take aim. But she paused and looked over at him, eyebrows raised and a grin on her lips. “How deep do you want me to go with why they were trapped there?”
“What?” Something about that struck her funny. Maybe an honest to god whiskey swig down the wrong pipe as well but somehow he doubted that. She was too familiar with the drink to be making that mistake. “Can’t even say it’s dated now ‘cause Doc’s in town.” He was still skeptical but then again, much stranger things had already happened that day. He shook his head slowly. “Not yet.” Raylan ran a hand over his mouth, trying to hide the mild embarrassment. “Somehow it doesn’t surprise me that you’d know Doc Holliday. The way the two of us are gettin’ on.” He motioned between them. “That’s up to you. I’m up for this little exchange but I ain’t gonna pry either. Dealer’s choice.”
Oh, just how well she knew Doc was information for another time, perhaps. But she couldn’t help smiling at the remark. They really were getting on surprisingly well and she knew that even if she ended up getting out of here (again) somehow and didn’t remember him, she would be at least a little thankful to have met him here at all. It was good to have people you could not only relate to but confide in - or as much as Wynonna was someone to do that, anyway. She was quiet for a moment as she focused on her shot and took it, watching the ball she was aiming for bounce off of the corner of a pocket and slowly roll right back toward her. “Pfft. Figures,” she said, shaking her head and standing back up as she leaned against the table again. “Right, well. My great-great-granddaddy is why. That shit he got into? The curse? It’s that. Some of the story might sound kind of familiar, but he and his best buddy and their little gang got around to killing oh… 77 people, give or take? The curse ended up being that those folks he killed, or got killed, would come back around to try and get rid of the ‘heir’.” She raised a hand at that, pointing to herself and snorting a little in amusement. The heir. Ugh. “But they’re stuck there. Can’t leave the Ghost River Triangle come Hell or high water. Well. Maybe Hell. But they just cause a shit ton of trouble, try to murder you in horrible ways, you get the picture. Blah, blah. I’d managed to get out of Purgatory but wound back up there after my uncle died a few years back and… well, here I am now.”
“Yeah, I think we’re not really trying.” Maybe Wynonna was with the first shot she took but there was more focus in their conversation than putting the balls in the pockets. “I know I’m not before you get any idea about my skills with a cue. Actually, that’s a lie, I don’t spend enough time playing to have much of those either.” Instead of getting up to take his turn, he remained leaning against the table beside her. Raylan sat up a little straighter, brow furrowing thoughtfully. The details of her story along with those already woven through their conversation were starting to come together into something he wasn’t connecting yet. “Shit. Bad enough when you make enemies on your own but inheriting your parents’ and grandparents’ and so on just for being born into the wrong family,” he murmured, staring at the pool table in front of them. “So bein’ here is kind of like a vacation.”
The fact that the game was more or less being forgotten, despite having just started, wasn’t a bother for Wynonna. It wasn’t often she found herself getting caught up in conversation with someone, so she was going to take advantage of the moment. The whiskey may have been helping her there, too. Of course, alcohol always made her way more chatty than she already was and that was saying a lot because Wynonna Earp was not one to know when she needed to stop talking in the first place. “Hah,” she said through a dry laugh at the comment. “I don’t know that vacation is the right word for it.” Settling a little, she set the cue stick aside again and loosely crossed her arms over her chest before looking down at her feet briefly, crossing them at the ankles and standing there. “I was… um, trying to find my sister and Doc, actually, when I wound up here. Except this Doc is a Doc from almost a couple of years ago for me.” Her nose scrunched a bit and she cleared her throat softly. “I still don’t understand the whole different timeline thing, but it is what it is.” Another shrug and she finally looked up at him. “Anyways, curse-smursh, y’know?”
“Leave of absence. Suspension maybe,” he offered, shrugging lazily. “So that’s a thing too? Not only do we get kidnapped here but someone might not even be from the same point of time?” That seemed like it could get a little cruel, a reminder of what someone had lost and could lose all over again. He’d had his own shit going on back home, complications and difficulties looking to be laid to rest, but if he’d been pulled out while he’d been looking for people he gave a damn about? It’d be fair if she tried to burn it all down. Raylan knocked back the last of his drink, staring at the glass in his hand. He drew in a breath as if starting to say something and then chewed at his lip. The whiskey had started to soften the walls he put up and the easy camaraderie with Wynonna helping it along a little more. Shit. She’d shared about that damned dogged curse that followed her family like a bad penny. “If it makes you feel any better, one side of my family tree is criminals and the other necromancers. Hell of a combination.”
“Mmhm, apparently. He’s told me the last thing he remembers from Purgatory was something that feels like it happened a decade ago for me now. Plus there are a couple of other things about him that tie him to that point in time and not how he was when he… uh, disappeared.” Left would’ve sounded too harsh and she didn’t want to go into details right then about Doc going after Waverly to save her. “So I kinda debunked that he just lost part of his memory pretty quickly. He just hasn’t gone through the things we’ve— he’s gone through yet. It’s weird shit, friend.” By the time she was gone talking she noticed his glass was empty and raised an eyebrow. “Want another?” she asked, ready to push off to go order him a second round if he was ready for it. However, he kept talking and her eyes went wide for a moment. “Like, bring Old Yeller back from doggy heaven kind of necromancer? Or are we talking more Evil Dead need a chainsaw for an arm level?”
“So he doesn’t know what he’s been through yet but you do and you run the risk of telling him which could mess things up if you went back and remembered what you were told here? If we ever go back and remember this place.” What a fucking nightmare. “People talk about being in different places in a relationship but that’s going too far.” Though maybe it would’ve been the one thing that made things work for him and Winona, a Raylan less likely to be in the line of fire and settle down. He moved away from the table and headed over to line up his shot, choosing to focus on the pool table. “I don’t think either of those fit really.” Raylan leaned down over the table. “Raise, release, get the occasional earthbound spirit nagging at you because they won’t figure out how to move on.” This time the striped ball hit its mark in the pocket and he shifted around the corner to line up his next shot. “My aunt told me young that if I ever raised anything without a damn good reason, she’d tan my hide so hard that I couldn’t sit for a week. That’s scarier than anything else out there,” he added, smile faint.
“Well, that’s another thing. Apparently I’ve been here before?” Her tone lifted a little when she said it, clearly unsure of the whole thing but it’s what Doc had said and even though it had taken a while for them to get to a point of being mostly honest with one another, she believed him. “And I don’t remember jack shit. So I’m not sure how often that happens or if some people are taken back and remember it or what. I don’t think anyone around here understands any of what’s going on, they’re just trying to do their best to not go insane.” Normalcy was important to people, even the nonhuman kind, she was sure. “So I’m not really worried about remembering what happens here. I guess there’s a chance it could happen though. But he and I have come to an agreement that I’ll catch him up on all the juicy details at some point.” Wynonna still couldn’t help feeling like she was being selfish in wanting to tell Doc everything and it was clear on her face that something about the idea troubled her, even if she didn’t speak on it. When he explained what necromancy (at least for him) was, a sort of impressed look crossed her features. “Huh. Aunt’s can be scary like that, mine’s a hell of a woman too and I feel like would’ve said the same damn thing to me if the situation had called for it. But I just have my special little pew pew. Or did. Whatever. Not even really mine so much as a family heirloom, if you will.” She snorted. “You’d be handy back in Purgatory though. I’ve seen a lot of things and met a lot of people and, uh, not people, but not someone who can do that.”
“With a lot of alcohol involved.” Most times that it came down to having a talk, Raylan found reason to avoid it, postpone it, or barely get through with the help of whatever was handy. Winona could talk and he tried but raised as he was, he’d rather go running straight into a gunfight and it drove her nuts. “Just not too much so the talk has to be done over,” he added in a murmur. He didn’t envy Wynonna that. Helen. God he missed her and worse, he still didn’t know how to mourn her. “Sounds like your aunt and mine would’ve gotten along. The hollers down in Harlan produced a lot of strong women. You either respected ‘em or ended up staring down the barrel of a shotgun.” He probably didn’t need to explain that to the woman standing nearby when she clearly was made of the same. “Inherit the gun, inherit the gun? ‘least they could do for putting you in that position.” This time the cue ball hit just left of its mark and instead of one of his striped balls, he sunk one of Wynonna’s solids. Raylan cursed softly before standing up straight. “I don’t know about that. Probably wouldn’t work on your Revenants. Maybe. Hard to say unless I met one and rather not.”
“I told Doc he might need a whole bottle of whiskey whenever the time comes, but maybe the whiskey is more for me.” Wynonna couldn’t help snorting quietly in amusement over it. No, she definitely knew she’d at least need a little whiskey to get through telling him everything that had happened between what he last remembered and her arrival (re-arrival). At least he already knew about the vampire bit, but she wasn’t keen to loop Raylan in on that tidbit of information. That brought a sad smile to her face and she nodded a little. The last time her Aunt had been in Purgatory she was flying off in a helicopter with her daughter, going to relocate somewhere safe and far away. Wynonna hadn’t even been able to see her because of how quickly everything happened. As those thoughts crossed her mind, she felt her throat tighten a little and she blinked back tears, shaking her head a little to pull herself back into the moment. “I mean, I guess technically it’s mine. Or was. Doesn’t exist anymore and… yeah. It’s, uh. Not my favorite?” She sniffled quietly and reached for her whiskey again, needing another sip before continuing. “I’d rather you didn’t meet any of them, either. Some of them are fuckin’ dumb, but there’s a lot that aren’t.”
They were treading into that territory. Wynonna seemed to be dredging up a fair amount of emotion in regards to the subjects at hand and attempting to hide it while Raylan’s end started becoming conversationally shorter and terser, avoidance of anything even remotely related to discussing feelings. “Shit.” His acting skills were about as great as his coping skills, faking a stumble so he could knock the eight ball into the pocket with his hand as he caught himself and end the game. “You know, that’s on me. It’s only right I buy the winner a drink or maybe a few shots. Her choice,” he stated, holding up his hands.
Despite probably having had enough to drink for the night already, she wasn’t about to turn down a free one or even a shot. Though it had been her turn to buy him a drink and she playfully stuck her lower lip out at him in a tiny pout. She saw how he knocked the eight ball in and felt a little grateful that their game had come to a quicker end, though she didn’t say anything. “I mean, if you insist I won’t say no.” She put their cue sticks back where they belonged and left the rest of the pool balls scattered on the table before grabbing her glass and heading over to a table nearby. “Shot of tequila, maybe? I may regret that.” But that was followed by a bit of a laugh and a small grin. “Also I think you deserve a proper introduction.” She said this and held out her hand to him, offering him a firm handshake if he decided to take it. “Though I don’t do much properly, so that’s my bad. Raylan? This has been a damn fine evening so far and it’s nice to meet you. I’m Wynonna Earp.”
“It only seems right,” Raylan assured her, “though I haven’t had tequila in a while. Not since I moved back from Miami.” It hadn’t stood a chance next to Meg Bennett’s apple pie moonshine though, his tolerance mildly dialed back until he’d been back in Kentucky a few months. He leaned against the bar, casually motioning to the bartender. “Bottle of tequila and two glasses. Thanks.” There was no hesitation as he clasped her hand, handshake firm. “Pleasure’s mine, Wynonna. I appreciate…” It took a moment to sink in with the whiskey sitting pretty in his system. The reaction took place in his expression, the furrowed brow and head tilt to eyebrows rising as it sunk in what she’d said and with one little introduction, a last name, all the pieces of their conversation coming together in a neat little package. “Your great granddaddy’s best friend ‘s Doc...you’re an Earp. Two of you already knowin’ each other. Of course.” He hadn’t taken his hand out of hers yet but his head tilted back, eyes closing. “Hell, I’m gonna finish what I started. I appreciate the rundown you gave me tonight.”
Look, she couldn’t deny that a big part of the reason she wanted to formally introduce herself was just to see his reaction to knowing what her last name was after finding out that Wyatt and Doc were heroes of his. She’d be keen to say that his reaction didn’t disappoint and she watched as it settled over him, squeezing his hand and grinning a little. “I am an Earp, glad you picked up on that,” she said with a bit of teasing to her voice. It wasn’t often she got to go through the whole ‘feeling famous’ thing like Doc did. In fact, it almost never happened and most people she knew from back home didn’t much care for the Earps one way or the other. Except for the handful that she kept close. “All makes a bit more sense now, doesn’t it? But you’re welcome. There’s a lot more where that came from, but I need to keep a little mystery somewhere. Though after that,” she said, gesturing to the whole bottle of tequila (really, Raylan?), “who knows what I’ll end up saying or doing.”
His initial response to the confirmation was to knock back the first shot of tequila. It had a kick to it but it was certainly no bourbon, missing the smoothness of the finish. “I figure you keep it quiet for reasons so I won’t say a word but if a Tim Gutterson shows up here and decide to inform him of this as well, if you would be so inclined to let me know beforehand, I would appreciate it.” Tim would have a more restrained reaction of course, not that Raylan’s could be considered all that unrestrained, but he thought it might be enough to slightly flap the unflappable marshal. “It does indeed make more sense and I thank you for sharing that little bit of information,” he added as he picked up the bottle again and poured them both a shot. Picking his up, he turned towards her and held his up. “To new friendships, to names with legacies, some unwanted, and to hoping we don’t make a damn fool out of ourselves after this.”