Raylan Givens (marshalgivens) wrote in valloic, @ 2020-09-01 09:12:00 |
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Entry tags: | !: action/thread/log, ₴ inactive: raylan givens, ₴ inactive: wynonna earp |
The bourbon at his elbow came courtesy of Julia appearing with a well-timed reason to keep him from the stage, no need to leave a fresh drink behind. He murmured a quiet thanks and as she returned to her work, he returned to his book and kept an eye out in case he might need to return the favor.
Raylan got maybe a page farther when someone sat down beside him and he braced for the questioning why he wasn’t up there or if he was interested. Instead he caught a peripheral look of auburn waves and a familiar mischievous smile. “Why Wynonna, I would’ve taken you for more of a mechanical bull kind of girl rather than karaoke,” Raylan stated dryly, folding down the corner of the book so he could focus on the conversation. “Don’t tell me...Beastie Boys? ‘Fight For Your Right to Party’?”
When her and Doc had arrived (a little later than maybe intended), the place was already getting into the groove of things and she’d grabbed them a couple of drinks to try and settle in. Work up some courage to sing, or to at least sit and listen. Because sometimes the alcohol helped that too, or was at least necessary.
But it had been while she was up that she’d noticed Raylan by himself at a table. Reading. What? Who does that? Of course it made her laugh, but she had opted to leave him alone for the time being, he seemed engrossed and doing his best to ignore the chaos that was ensuing around him. Eventually she excused herself from the table she was sharing with Doc and went over to his, plopping down in a seat beside him and staring with her eyebrows up and an amused look on her face. “Find me a mechanical bull and I’ll prove you right,” she quipped with a giggle.
“What the hell are you reading? And why in a bar?” She was clearly teasing as she used a finger to push the book up enough so she could read the title. “Hadn’t planned on singing that one but it’s a good idea, so I’m tucking away that little nugget of wisdom for later. Are you gonna end up singing? Hmm?”
“I think we may need to drop a suggestion in the box about that one but there’s always next time.” Though he wasn’t sure if that would fit in at Galahd’s, karaoke was sure trying to make it work. Falling off would probably be vastly less painful than the attempted high note that sounded as if it may have left a path of destruction up the vocal cords of whomever made the attempt.
Raylan took his hand off the book to let her see while he picked up his whiskey. “Well I came here figuring that it’d either be that or staring at the bartop and I’ve never been one for the dramatic long stare. That and some people take it as an invitation to come cheer you up. I did not count on karaoke.” He took a drink and set the glass down, nodding to the book. “Thought I might try one of the writers local to this world, couple of crime-solvin’ elves.” Raylan shrugged a shoulder, nose briefly wrinkling up. Some tropes just stayed the same across worlds and it was only a chapter or two more before the elf partners ended up in bed together - not the kind of book he was hoping it would be.
His eyes went a little wider before he quickly shook his head. “No. No, there is no amount of this,” he stated, rapping a knuckle against his glass, “that would make me do that.” He tilted his head towards the stage.”Absolutely not.”
“I feel like the mechanical bull would be more suited to Harvelle’s, though not sure Jo would want one taking up that much space there,” she said with a laugh, kicking back in her chair a little. When he went on to explain his reasoning and that he hadn’t expected karaoke, she raised an eyebrow at him. No sense in informing him that it had been all over the Network the last couple of days. “I think people usually go to coffee shops for that, but guess they don’t have whiskey, huh? Not that you couldn’t bring your own.”
Wynonna snorted at ‘crime-solvin elves’ because it sounded absolutely absurd. Though there was a lot about this place that was, well, absurd. “What kind of crimes are they solving? I’m really only interested if there’s dead bodies and,” she paused to bring her hands up, gesturing what she meant but sticking her index finger through the round hole created by her thumb and finger on the other hand. She was only mostly kidding. “And fine no singing. You and Doc can buddy up and sit and listen in misery together.”
“They do take up a lot of space. Not just the bull but the room to be tossing people around without much injury,” he agreed. Raylan caught the look she gave him and held up his hands defensively. “I’m not used to checking that thing. I use my phone for texting, calling, and pretending I have something pressing so that I can avoid someone who would be an otherwise bothersome intrusion in my day.” And now he was losing the point of why he was even explaining all of that to begin with. “My point being I’m gonna have to learn to check online forums more,” he concluded. Raylan narrowed his eyes at the suggestion. “You heard the kind of music they got in coffee shops? I’d end up shooting a goddamn speaker just to put it out of my misery.”
Raylan snapped his fingers, a non-verbal agreement with Wynonna’s assessment. “It is indeed that but I have made my mind up to stick with it until I decide the deviation from the plot to discuss their bedroom life is leaving the book without plot.” He picked up the paperback and turned it over. “I think it was a well-respected goblin councilman,” he murmured but his attempt at remembering came to a sudden halt when he caught the mimicry. Amusement caught him off guard, Raylan throwing his head back with a laugh as he flopped back in his seat. “They’re doin’ more of that than crime solvin’, it’s true.” He inclined his head to her in unspoken gratitude. “Now some of them are doing a great job. I just don’t get up in front of people unless I’m workin’ and if I’m workin’, I’m usually not in front of people to draw attention.”
Really, what else was a phone good for around here anyway? It’s not like she could send all her favorite dumb memes to Raylan. Oh shit - or could she and she hadn’t even bothered to check because she just assumed they wouldn’t appear? Huh. Mental note to try that later.
Wynonna snorted softly in amusement. She still couldn’t get past the fact that it was crime-solving elves, but goblin councilman? What was she even hearing right now? Suppose there’s a niche for that somewhere out there. “Oooh, it’s a smutty book with true crime for a front? That’s how they get ya,” she said with a laugh, grinning at him.
“Aww, I mean I guess they’re doing all right. Better than I probably will once I get up there.” She gave him a wink and shifted in her seat a little before reaching down to her gun belt to adjust it. It was always kind of awkward to sit in a chair with it on since it had a tendency to dig into her a little. “But after I saw the look on Doc’s face when we got here, I knew I needed to sing something just to embarrass him a little.”
Wynonna nailed the book’s deception on the head. “And along comes the idiot that even though he got more than he signed up for, he tries pushing through to the end with whiskey. I have been in worse situations, I refuse to be defeated by a book with a misleading synopsis.” Though he probably should’ve known when it came part of a pre-packed buy three, get one free used book deal. Occasionally the dice just had to be rolled.
“You have entirely too much personality to fail regardless of your ability to carry a tune or lack thereof,” Raylan assured her, leaning forward so his elbows rested on the table, “and it is some time in so you can consider some of these fine folks have been drinking and everything will sound amazing to their alcohol-tuned ears.” It had been one of the things he missed about Kentucky and realized it only after he came back, the bar atmosphere and the hidden gem local bands making a name for themselves. “Don’t tease me with a good time. I find it hard to believe that Doc is the kind to get embarrassed easily and you strike me as too stubborn to give in easily.”
Much like the part of Raylan’s brain that didn’t seem to understand being off the clock or, here in Vallo, no longer a marshal. He subtly pointed a finger at the gun belt. “That it?” he asked, lowering his voice out of respect for her privacy. “Peacemaker?”
“Obviously I’m a natural born entertainer.” Well, to an extent. And usually if there was enough alcohol involved. Though her background as an exotic dancer would likely say otherwise; it took a lot to be willing to get up on a stage and do that. At least karaoke meant keeping clothes on, generally. Wynonna snorted again quietly. “You’re right, Doc doesn’t embarrass easily, though that doesn’t mean I won’t try like hell.” She glanced over at the table nearby that Doc was sitting at with his whiskey and smiled a little to herself before turning her attention back to Raylan.
The question about the gun only caught her slightly off guard and she realized after a couple of seconds that she hadn’t been able to introduce the two of them yet. This made an excited look cross her features and she gave him an enthusiastic nod. “It sure is,” she said with a grin, reaching back down to the belt to pull Peacemaker from its holster, setting it on the table and watching Raylan’s expression the whole. damn. time.
“See I’m a little envious of that. Maybe more people would think I had a sense of humor if I had just a bit of ability to entertain.” Raylan held up his hand, thumb and forefinger a scant few millimeters apart. “Then again it may be what I think is funny and they think is funny is just too different a kind of funny,” he added thoughtfully. More often than not the source of the accusation usually had handcuffs on or was about to be handcuffed and it would’ve been weird if they found the executor of their arrest funny. Raylan picked up his whiskey glass to toast Wynonna. “Since you’re already set on it and all, I’ll give you twenty if you make him turn red before you do.”
So maybe Wynonna brought out a little bit of the troublemaking Harlan County teenager he’d once been.
Raylan didn’t reach for it at first, equal parts amazed and admiring of the weapon laying on the table in front of him. They didn’t make them like that anymore but the Colt seemed to be in damn fine condition all the same. “Goddamn,” he murmured softly, “that’s an actual Buntline Special like they used to carry in the Old West.” And Wyatt Earp once held this very gun and faced the forces of darkness, something eight-year-old Raylan couldn’t fathom beyond outlaws and cattle rustlers.
The way he picked up the gun was reverent, his trigger finger lying below the gun’s barrel and off the trigger in a measure of gun safety worn into them at Glynco. He sighted the weapon at the wall, closing one eye, feeling the heft and the balance. He couldn’t hide the boyish grin any longer as he set Peacemaker back down in front of Wynonna. “He don’t know why but there’s a little boy in Harlan County whose childhood you just made.”
“And I’ll give you nothing if I don’t, because my disappointment and not being able to embarrass Doc Holliday will be enough of a bruise to my insanely fragile ego without you taking money from me, too.”
Oh, that look in his eye was enough to make her giddy and she didn’t get giddy very often. Leave it to Raylan to never let her down when it came to his reactions to things he was a not so secret nerd about, no matter how much he tried to be cool about it. “I mean, I should hope it’s like they used in the Old West since it was used in the Old West.” But she was grinning and watching him, loving the fact that this seemed like Christmas morning to him.
At the mention of her making a little boy’s childhood, her grin softened and she gave him a knowing look, taking the gun from the table and holding it in her hand carefully. “It’s weird, like it’s always in the back of my mind that this was Wyatt’s gun, but it’s been passed down long enough now that the weight of that just doesn’t sit the same, you know?” Her nose crinkled a little and she looked back up at him before turning the gun so he could see the bottom of the grip where the initials W and E were carved into it. “That man right over there,” she said, nodding back toward where Doc was sitting, “did that back in ye olde Wild West days of yore. So there’s your little fun nugget of wisdom or something.”
“That is fair. There is nothing worse than the look or feeling of disappointment but when that feeling comes from within.” Raylan shook his head slowly, his attempt at sober understanding slowly losing ground to amusement. “I’m sure there are a few who wish I might feel that a little more and curb my behaviors that produce such feelings. Keep me out of trouble.”
He knew it was a relic of that time and place. Raylan listened well when Wynonna told the story but there was still something electric about the actual Peacemaker of her tales laying in his hands. “Indeed,” he replied softly. “There are some things you find hard to believe even when they’re right in front of you. This is the weapon that puts demons down generation after generation in the hands of the right person, starting with the infamous Wyatt himself. Honestly it’s the shape of it that makes it the most unbelievable. A good weapon can last a long time in the hands of the right person and good care but goddamn. For all the battles she’s seen you may as well have brought this from the 19th century. I don’t think my first service weapon survived this well.” Of course he’d lost it to Internal Affairs even after they’d cleared him so whether it would have lasted the year was a moot point.
While he didn’t know the exact situation she faced in regards to Wyatt and the gun, he felt a general understanding. “I figure at some point that you hear it enough and maybe become numb to it. The shininess wears off and the idea of it dulls if there was ever a sheen to it in the first place. They made a name for themselves in one way or another and it isn’t you they’re recognizing when they hear it, it’s the legacy you were left maybe?” Which he was just as guilty of upon hearing that Doc Holliday was present in Vallo and Wynonna was Wyatt’s heir. “Sorry ‘bout that.” Raylan scratched idly behind his ear. “So not only did you inherit a gun but you inherited his best friend too?” he added as a quip, nodding towards Doc.
“Well, the last time I saw this gun it was being turned into a flaming blue sword, so I think there’s a little heavenly touch that might have something to do with the condition that it’s in. Especially considering I threw the damn thing down a well when I was a kid and it stayed there for.. uh, 15 years or so?” It had needed a little touch up work done to it after she fetched it, but otherwise it worked as well as it ever had, at least as far as she knew. “She’s been through a lot. My little magic gun,” she added with a small laugh.
After a moment she looked back up at him and gave a short nod. “People know the last name, they don’t really care about the first until it’s Wyatt’s, you know? It’s just something you learn to expect as a part of the family.” Her shoulders lifted and dropped in a small shrug, giving him a smile. There wasn’t an apology necessary, but she appreciated it all the same. His reaction was better than most when people found out who she was related to.
“I suppose I did,” she laughed, glancing over at Doc briefly. “Very unintentionally. Introduced himself to me as Henry at first, so I went a little while not knowing who he actually was though honestly, it should’ve been real obvious when I think back on it.” There was a brief pause. “Never would have expected it, not in a million fucking years, you know?” There was a lot left unsaid in those words, how grateful she was for Doc, how much he’d changed her life, all of it. But Wynonna wasn’t very good at talking about things like that, so she didn’t really elaborate.
Gun used by Wyatt Earp? He could wrap his mind around that. Down a well for 15 years? Sure. Doc apparently was down a well as well and he seemed to be in all right condition also. His mind seemed to draw the line at the Buntline Special in Wynonna’s possession turning into a blue flaming sword with a possible heavenly touch. “Someone says they have a rough day, rough week, you can say ‘see, my gun’s had it worse than you and look how well kept she is’,” Raylan drawled dryly.
“He was never famous, not really infamous either. People knew his name though being the jack of all criminal trades, master of none though he wanted to be. When I came back to Kentucky, set foot in Harlan County again, recognition was almost never on my own terms. Always ‘aren’t you Arlo’s kid?’ and that tone of disbelief that anything Arlo had a hand in might be wearin’ a badge.” Raylan sat back, pushing up the brim of his hat with a finger. “It absolutely ain’t what you probably get with your last name but there’s somethin’ about associations just because you share a name and people wanting to put you in that box because of it. Make it fit their world view.” He envied the people that didn’t have complicated families but some days they seemed as much a fairy tale for as little as they seemed to exist.
Raylan tilted his head, looking thoughtful. “I don’t know about that, knowing right off. ‘Henry’ somewhat suits him and hell, maybe I’m jaded by the job but plenty of people claim to be someone famous from history. Had a vampire fugitive once try to claim to be Sigmund Freud. Terrible drive back to Miami.” He’d spent a week never wanting to hear proper names for certain body parts again. “My point though is you were probably right to make him earn the right to believe ‘im.”
Wynonna couldn’t help but laugh quietly. “Right? Like how dare someone try to make it seem like they’ve been through more than this gun,” she joked, holding it up and rolling her eyes before finally putting it back in the holster on her hip as she listened to him talk about his father and how he could relate to the whole association by name thing that comes with some families. “I mean, doesn’t matter what the name is ultimately, right? Sure people know the name Earp, but there’s a lot of shit from my past that people associate me to and not just Wyatt.” She shrugged a little. “Wynonna Earp. Purgatory’s finest fuck up.” Her eyes went wide for a brief moment but she smirked and looked over at him.
“Henry suits him, though it’s weird for me to hear anyone call him anything other than Doc now, even though I know he still tends to introduce himself as other names to save face right away. People get can get real weird about it.” Her nose scrunched up a bit, amused at a memory that came to mind in that moment.
“First time I met him, well… I don’t remember an awful lot because I was well on my way to being shit faced the first time I met him. But I do remember he looked like he came right out of some sort of reenactment show. Waves thought he was just a huge Earp fanboy and liked to dress up from the time. Suppose in a way she was right,” she said, grinning again.
Raylan couldn’t help but smile at that. “I think the idea of being a ‘fuck up’ is subjective to the population that you’re surrounded by,” he stated softly, rapping a knuckle against the table as he spoke. “I chose to get my gold star and because of that more than a few back home consider me much the same, as bad as an outsider ‘cause I’m a federal. Even the aunt that raised me said maybe I shouldn’t have come back because I just brought nothing but trouble. So you see, it is a subjective mood and frankly should be taken with a grain of salt.” He continued with a shrug. “Of course I don’t know that part of your story and I wouldn’t judge if I did.”
He arched an eyebrow at that, barely suppressing a laugh. “I suppose you mean the overzealous types that might flock him because of his reputation or might think he’s crazy given the historical dates of his existence?” he asked, then added, “though sometimes it does seem like his first name is indeed Doc and normal enough to not even be questioned.”
The scene practically painted itself from Wynonna’s words and that Doc seemed to adapt his look to the modern day but still retained some of that gunslinger from the 19th century. “Probably get more than a few out that way that show up looking to live the old way or at least their idea of it so your sister might’ve been right had it not been the one who actually was from that time,” he laughed.
She knew he was right. It was subjective and just came down to the people around you. When she’d first arrived back in Purgatory after her uncle’s death, she was reminded a few times over just how much of a fuck up she had been and still was. But as time went on, partnering up with Dolls, Doc entering the picture, Haught, Jeremy… Waves. Maybe she was still a little bit of a fuck up, but at least now she had family. Real family, people that gave a shit about her. She cleared her throat a little as the thought of everyone floated to the front of her mind and was pushed back again, nodding slightly in acknowledgement of what he was saying. “I’m sure one of these days you’ll get the sob story of my life outside of what you already know.”
“I think it more has to do with people losing their minds that he’s even still alive, honestly. Kind of becomes a bit of a side show act in its own way when someone who should’ve died 130 years ago is still around and kickin’.” Wynonna grimaced a little and then forced a bit of a smile to her face. She wasn’t even sure Raylan knew that Doc had let himself be turned into a vampire in her timeline and she wasn’t the one who wanted to give him that bit of information either. So she didn’t.
She paused for a moment though and then gave his foot a bit of a playful nudge under the table, a thoughtful sort of look on her face. “I mean. It happens, it is called Wyatt Earp country for a reason. I wish you could come visit sometime. It’s kind of a shit hole but it’s my shit hole, y’know?”
“Not unless you want to share. If you do, I’ll provide the bottle to make the words come easier. If you don’t that’s fine too. The past ain’t something easy to reckon with.” He remembered all too well what it was like coming home to Harlan County, how nothing changed and yet he fit in even less than when he’d left. Raylan picked up his glass to hold it out in a toast. “To goddamn surviving it somehow.”
It would have been a novelty had vampires not worn the idea of immortality and long lifespans out back home. “The only thing we have like that back home is vampires and the occasional black magic worshipping witch who found a way to lengthen their lifespan through ritual sacrifice. So I imagine the speculation would start, rumors running wild, before people start sidling up trying to find out one way or the other.” From what interaction he’d had with Doc so far, he couldn’t imagine him enjoying that nosiness isn’t his life too much.
“Actually I have a fair idea what you’re saying though we keep that between us. If anyone found out I acknowledged Harlan County as my shithole, they might think I was possessed again.” Wynonna’s words brought up something that he hadn’t really considered before, how Vallo put them all on a common ground but if they ever left...they might not even exist in the same place, connections forged gone in the blink of an eye.
It meant a lot to her that he was more than willing to respect any space she might need to talk about things, even if she couldn’t articulate it. She laughed a little at his toast and smiled. “I left my drink over at the table, but cheers to fuckin’ that.”
Wynonna shifted a little and tried to contain the expression that wanted to cross her face at the mention of both witches and vampires. Oh, he was so close and yet had no idea. “I have… dealt with my fair share of both of those, for sure. Though outside of one witch, the others tended to keep to themselves. For the most part. They’re all kind of assholes when you get down to it though, huh? And the fuckin’ vampires…” She shook her head a little and snorted in amusement. “I was surprised it took as long as it did for them to show up in Purgatory, but they were easy enough to uh, get rid of, I guess.” At least all but one.
The thoughtful look almost turned borderline sad and she laughed again, though it was quieter this time. “Sometimes you just gotta own it, right?” She crinkled her nose then and breathed out a sigh. “I’m sure the chances of you ever ending up in the Ghost River Triangle are slim to none, but you wouldn’t be the first US Marshal to make your way out there. So.” She didn’t want to voice the elephant of him even remembering her let alone that Purgatory was a place that existed. “I should probably get back to Doc, and let you get back to your book, huh?”
Raylan toasted the air where a glass would be, settling for the symbolism instead. “Whatever else we might be shit at, we got that going for us,” he added to the toast with a small smile.
“Witches I don’t mind at all as long as they aren’t into human sacrifice. Vampires can kiss my ass just for the arrogant superiority they give off.” The smirk contained a hint of pride at being an annoyance on his own. “One of the few good things about being a necromancer is being immune to their bullshit.” That also meant they influenced the occasional statie to provide a distraction when the usual ways wouldn’t work. “Wynonna the Vampire Slayer, huh?”
The unspoken addition sat there between them but she was trying and he wasn’t about to be the one to ruin it. “The way I have of pissing off my superiors, that may be more likely to happen than you think,” he agreed. “Purgatory might be a half-decent place to spend my time.” Raylan glanced at the novel he’d valiantly been trying to finish. “I can’t speak for my book but I wouldn’t want to impose on your time with Doc too much. You’ve got some shame to invoke after all.” The addition was followed by a wink.
“Buffy wasn’t around so someone had to.” She snorted quietly and then shook her head. “The vampires that showed up felt like they’d just rolled right out of West Hollywood or something. It was ridiculous. They had a stripper bus, man.”
As the shift in the conversation grew more sincere, Wynonna sighed a little and pushed herself out of her chair. “It’s kind of boring outside of the assholes from Hell that keep showing up, but I guess that at least keeps folks like us busy, eh?” Then she paused before moving behind him and wrapping her arms around his shoulders in a gentle sort of back-hug. “Sorry. I hope this isn’t weird. But thank you.” And then her arms dropped and she gave one of his shoulders a squeeze before moving to head back over to rejoin Doc. “I’ll let you know if I manage to embarrass him or not.”
“I wish I could say that surprises me but it does not.” He’d yet to meet a vampire that wasn’t flashy or over the top in some way. Maybe there were sane members among the species that he just hadn’t met yet. Maybe.
The hug surprised him but it was only a brief moment before he clapped a hand on the arms wrapped around him and squeezed gently. “You’re always welcome whenever you need it,” he said quietly. Maybe he wasn’t the most emotionally available but he could listen when it was needed. That he could give freely. “Give him hell, Earp. Make those cheeks turn red.”