The Universe's Mixer

After 800 years, Nick could sense when the sun was near rising or setting, so it was no surprise when he carefully opened the trunk to peer out that he saw that the sun had dipped below the horizon. Twilight was upon him.

( He climbed out of the trunk... )

Jennifer had successfully managed to keep herself out of the sightlines of her superiors for the duration of the werecreature issues. She had managed to not go outside for more than a couple of minutes at a time, and had happily kept herself from being bitten during those times. It was a win win situation for her.

Especially when her boss had come down to tell her what a great job she'd done.

Who was she to tell him she'd done exactly nothing? That she'd actually disobeyed orders and not gone out looking for roaming polar bears and giant fucking chickens? She'd just smiled and said thank you, and hoped that that would be the end of it. If she never heard about this outbreak again in her life it would be too soon.

Of course, during all of it, she'd seen not hide nor hair of her partner. Which made her wonder and worry more than a little bit. Had he gotten caught up in all of it? Was he just out being Charlie? Was it, maybe, a little bit of both?

Before she could really get into the depths of wondering and pick up her phone to try to call him, her intercom buzzed.

"Yes?" Had this been there before? Had it ever been used previously? It seemed like such an outdated thing. Jennifer was pretty sure that it hadn't even been a part of the phone system. Usually people just knocked on her office door or sent an email. Or called.

"You have a visitor." Came the falsely cheery voice of the woman currently manning the front desk.

"Alright." She paused. "Send them in." She didn't mean to sound snarky about it. But why ask permission now to admit a stranger when it'd never been an issue before. How many people had just walked right through the station to find her previously? Maybe that thing with the crazy woman had gotten folk to beef up the security. She could only hope.

Jennifer kept her eyes on the door while she waited for her guest.

Raylan watched as Boyd Crowder drove off in Ava's Ford pickup truck and, though every instinct in him said that he ought to be frustrated and annoyed for the other man's sudden turnaround, he was pleased. In fact, a small smidgen of a smirk crept at the corner of his lips. Well, damn if he wasn't just a little bit surprised by the events of the last thirty minutes. This went far beyond hinky. But he supposed that some people were just meant to keep running into each other. Meant to have their lives intertwined on a never ending roller coaster. He and Boyd seemed to be two of those sorts of people. Like magnetic poles, attracting and opposing at the same time. Hell if Raylan was ever going to understand the mechanism of crazy that churned in a mind like Boyd Crowder. The man was beyond shifty. He was smart, and he was most definitely insane. But there was method in that madness, Raylan was sure of it. Which was why he had never fully fallen for his old friend's baptist rejuvenation. Something about woodland preacher just didn't sit right where a Crowder was concerned. He supposed, by law, he should have chased after the truck and arrested the man. But Boyd came back for him. (Such a strange relationship they had -- like jealous lovers, always returning to each other's side for more suffering.) And so Raylan decided to let him off. For now.

Which was just to say that he would give him a head start.

Raylan climbed into the black town car, on loan from the Marshals' office. (He was supposed to have it checked it two hours ago.) Funny how a shootout could distract a man from his civic duty of punctuality. When he buckled into the driver's seat, his phone buzzed. Winona was calling.

You've gotten yourself into a sticky pickle now, haven't you, Raylan? His subconscious was even more of a smart ass than he was.

The phone buzzed once. Twice. Three times before he started the engine and answered the call.
( What's wrong? )