abrightboy | No One's Born Broken

Malcolm laughed at the notion lightly, still smiling when, gesturing to illustrate the difference, he said "Oh, see you're talking about social status classy and I'm talking about being a classy person. The latter is the clearly more important one, though," he insisted.

Raylan grinned and leaned back as the waitress came back with their drinks, promising their food in just a few minutes. Nodding at her as he picked up his coffee, he looked back at Malcolm as he took a sip.

"Dare I ask you to define each?" Oh he dared, he dared.

"Thank you," Malcolm said happily, "I would be happy to." He cleared his throat dramatically. "Social status class is what's known as an aristocratic manner. Knowing which fork to use and what kind of wine goes with beef tenderloin because the tannins will react just so. Etc," he said, with an uncurling of his hand to illustrate all the etceteras that could follow. "Which obviously I have been raised to at least imitate," he admitted. "Being a classy person is a behaviour, that anyone is capable of exhibiting - but," he raised a finger, "they have to choose to - where they treat other people with respect and try to do the decent thing. Which is you all over."

He couldn't help but laugh, drawing Willa's enraptured attention at the sudden pleasing timber from her father.

"I know a few people who'd disagree with you. Loudly, if allowed. And I doubt very much that there's anythin' about you that you imitate. Even if you don't eat beer tenderloin, or much wine. But thank you," he said with an incline of his hat brim.

"I'll take the compliment without argument."

The waitress came back with their food, setting three eggs in front of Malcolm with a plate on the side, one larger country ham, and Raylan's french toast. He thanked her with a nod and picked up his silverware. "In the interest of not portioning out your food, push whatever you don't want off onto the second plate, we'll see what Willa makes of it."

Malcolm's gaze lingered fondly on Raylan's face for a moment as the food was set in front of them, then he pushed half the eggs onto Willa's plate - he'd give it an honest try - before cutting a small corner off the ham for himself and pushing the rest towards Raylan.

He took a small bite of egg, then set his fork down. He always started the ritual of a meal with a test if he'd either never eaten that food or had never eaten it from that source.

"How's it look?" he asked about Raylan's french toast. "Living up to expectations?" He'd been wanting it since the previous night.

Realizing that there was still more Dad work to do, he set his silverware back down to reach over and push up Willa's sleeves. Not thinking about a bib, he moved the plate onto her highchair as he answered.

"The sugar is a little heavy but it matches the picture, so I can't complain." With Willa set up, he turned back to the food and, after fishing out one of the under pieces that had significantly less powdered sugar, cut off a neat center edge piece about an inch and a half wide, giving Malcolm the benefit of choice on if he ate crust.

"But it's pretty hard to mess up French Toast," he continued as he grabbed the syrup and drizzled over a healthy few strands back and forth. "You'll have to let me know how it goes." The piece was gestured at as he turned his plate towards him, cutting himself several bites and taking one up before processing some more.

Malcolm took the piece that was cut, opting for no crust, setting it on the edge of his plate away from his eggs so he could cut it into three tiny pieces before putting the first in his mouth, chewing carefully with a guarded expression. Once he swallowed it, he set his fork down to see how it went, looking across at Raylan. "There's a lot going on in a bite of that," he admitted. "If it stays down okay I might try another," he said, glancing down at the tiny slivers of french toast on his plate.

Raylan watched carefully with a very strong attempt to not look like he was, popping another bite in his mouth with a glance over at Willa. Everyone eating; good. Somehow that reassured him - if they could manage a meal together..

"If it makes you feel any better, it's just egg and bread. Little bit of seasoning if they know what they're doin'. Tell you what, bein' with you has got me payin' a lot more attention to my food than I used to. Still haven't decided if that's a good or a bad thing yet," he said, lips curling teasingly. "The bliss of not thinkin' about it almost makes the carbs go away."

Malcolm grinned, pleased, though he scoffed a light laugh at the last remark. "You can't possibly worry about carbs with your metabolism," he noted, carefully taking another bite of the french toast. He winced a little as he swallowed it; it was so... thick. "Alcohol is a much greater threat to your health, actually. You process so quickly that more of it hits your liver," he explained conversationally.

"It's all the salads and kale shakes I sneak in," he replied, sarcastic but not accusingly or condescending so. "I take off days."

Okay, only when he was on a stake out, or out for days hunting for someone, but that happened often enough that he counted it.

"I'm doin' alright." Mostly.

"I don't think it's worrying," Malcolm assured him. "I just think it's a bigger concern than carbs in your case."

He took a small forkful of eggs and chased it with a sip of coffee. The third piece of french toast was a wait and see sort of deal.

"The taste is weird but kind of nice," he said, gesturing towards Raylan's plate.

Willa was busy trying to get the eggs from the plate to her mouth and managed to get less in than Malcolm, though she wasn't shy about wearing it as a little egg fu man chu.

Raylan lifted his eyebrows in a passing 'Oh good' kind of look as he cut a piece of ham and popped it into his mouth. "It is one of the heavier breakfasts, I admit. But it'll hold me til dinner because of it. You too probably," he reasoned, before cutting another piece of ham.

"I'll try to make things at work quick. Havin' a baby slows me down for more reasons than one - I swear she is a beacon to every older woman in Lexington. If one more granny stops me, I'm gonna scream."

"Only grannies? From everything romantic comedies have ever taught us about sociology, an attractive single man with a baby ought to be delayed by women of every age," Malcolm teased.

"Well, not only grannies, but they're the safest." The last thing he needed was Malcolm worrying about Raylan getting snatched up by some beautiful woman who thought his baby was just 'so cute'. "Besides, I'm not single anymore. Maybe they sense it," he teased back, before happily popping another bite into his mouth.

Nobody around there knew Raylan wasn't single, but his hypothesis about it made Malcolm grin. "Is 'hopelessly smitten' a vibe a person can give off? I must be broadcasting it everywhere."

"It is, but without context, you're just very enthusiastic about life," Raylan said with a smirk as he took another bite and finally noticed the mess Willa was making. Setting down his silverware, he got a few napkins and started wiping the worst of it off.

"How anyone doesn't know when we're together, I'm still unsure of, but it's still none of their business." Yes, he had work to do on himself. It wasn't going to stop him from starting that work now. Every day and in every way that he could talk himself into.

Malcolm smiled softly as Raylan wiped up the baby, his eyes drifting to Raylan's face after a moment.

"You fit an image of masculinity in their minds that they can't reconcile with their image of the sort of man who'd kiss me. You're protected by a cloak of them not even trying to."

Raylan looked over briefly at that answer before finishing up with Willa's initial clean and dropping the fist full of napkins on the far side of the table with a faint passing lift of his eyebrows.

Not all questions needed a literal answer, but he didn't want to deflate Malcolm if he could help it.

"I imagine I look like the kinda man doesn't do a whole lot of some of what I do." Like reading for recreation. Not that he allowed himself that kinda time anymore. His point still stood.

"Too bad it doesn't protect me from assholes."

Malcolm didn't always recognize a rhetorical question. Raylan was kinder about it than most people.

"I think you'd enjoy it for maybe a week if it did. And then you'd get bored and go looking for some," he teased.

"Well I can't argue with that. They do bring a particular joy to my life," he said, lifting his mug in the barest cheers towards the scumbags he chased giving him reason to get up every day.

"You sure you ain't gonna be.. bored down here?" he asked, one eye squinting a little as he looked over. After all, Malcolm could only get so much tea.

Malcolm shook his head. "There's a whole city to discover. An apartment to develop. You to look forward to. And if all else fails, I know they have a local PD," he pointed out. "Maybe I'll introduce myself."

Raylan hummed, features still unsure in their squint as he cleared out the rest of his french toast. The waitress came by with the coffee pot and topped Raylan's cup off, with a nod of a thanks. She looked to Malcolm. "You want a new cup, honey?"

Once she'd gotten her answer and went off, Raylan answered with a smirk as he pulled the rest of the ham towards himself. "Just don't mention my name. It'll be easier for ya."

"Oh, no thank you," he told the waitress, taking a bite of eggs as she left, then looking over at Raylan.

"I wouldn't but... out of curiosity, why is that? You seem to be pretty good at getting your man."

"Mm. Lexington is still a smaller town, and once you've been framed for murder and set up as a dirty cop, the local PD tend to take a long lasting suspicion to a man. Add that to the shit they already hear me do.."

"Uh... what? A dirty cop? What are you talking about?"

He could picture few law enforcement officers he'd ever met who seemed less corruptible than Raylan Givens.

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