abrightboy | No One's Born Broken

"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.

"It's been floated a few times between the local PD and the Feebs that I am in Boyd Crowder's pocket." His face conveyed just how deeply disgusting and ridiculous he found that, features scrunching up as he said the name.

"And since it's happened more than once, some of 'em got it in their head that I'm in the middle of so much shit in Harlan on purpose. Doesn't help that Arlo was in Boyd's crew before he died either. Ain't much use in arguin' with them about it; they're never gonna pin that kinda shit on me, but that means I can't do much of anythin' about what everyone else thinks."

So, heads up out of professional respect, though he would have told Malcolm about it anyway, had he been given or created a better chance.

"Wow, that is... pretty disgusting social bias," Malcolm remarked conversationally, taking another bite of eggs. "I don't know if I want to work with them."

"To their credit, they're good cops and.." His shoulders rolled unevenly. "Some of the evidence didn't put me in the best light. Only fell apart because the FBI guy refused to give up the source that started the investigation, so everything they collected up to that point was trashed. It ain't their fault," he defended casually.

Malcolm raised an eyebrow at him. "Is that how you defend yourself? I can see why it's gotten out of hand. You're not corrupt; the notion is ridiculous. Why are you making excuses for why it 'fell apart'? It was never together."

"'Course it wasn't, but we only work on the information we have. The fact that it didn't get made into somethin' more is what shows just how not together it ever would be. I don't need to defend myself; it's just as ridiculous to do so. What's it matter- it fell out alright. They can think what they want."

Malcolm still looked faintly dubious as he took a sip of coffee, but it was Raylan's business, not his. Still, if he did work with the local PD and it came up... he wasn't sure he could keep his mouth shut. Maybe it was better to just not.

He considered the plate of eggs for a moment and took another bite, then looked at Raylan. "Where do you like to go in town?" he asked.

Out here in the country, sometimes speaking up got you more trouble than it was worth. Raylan was utterly unbothered by it, either way - he knew the truth, his team knew the truth and no real legal action had been taken. Others, historically, had sometimes gotten less lucky.

"No where, if I can help it," he admitted with a curl of his lips. "Not since collage, anyway. There's a few restaurants worth goin' to. The theater ain't bad but Lexington is just as small town as Harlan, more or less. Little more money, little more influence, but." His fork bobbed back and forth before he cut off another piece of ham.

"Wish I could give ya a list of places worth a damn. Then maybe I'd feel better about leavin' you at home when I go to the office."

"Well, you shouldn't feel bad about it. I've never been anywhere that I couldn't find some trouble to get into." He narrowed his eyes playfully. "It's sort of what I do."

A beat.

"Oh, hey, do you know anywhere good to play pool? JT killed me at it last time we played. I can't talk him into taking me on at raquetball, so I need to practice pool."

"Oh that's reassuring," he replied with a sarcastic tone and a smirk behind the edge of his lifting coffee cup.

"Yeah actually. You know one too now," he implied with a lift of his eyebrows. "Almost all the bars here got 'em. One night we'll have to go out and play together." Raylan liked pool. It was easy, fun, and he didn't have to think or work too hard. Plus, it went great with a few fingers of scotch.

"Isn't Racquetball basically tennis on a wall to be played by yourself?"

"I'd like that a lot," he said softly to the invitation to play pool. Though it was also all the more reason to get better at it. He was about to spear another bite of eggs when Raylan offered his understanding of raquetball.

"Oh, no," he scoffed. "It's extra savage tennis on a wall to be played against someone."

"How do you make Tennis 'savage'? Or play against someone on a wall?"

He'd heard of the game, just not any of the details of it, and he'd never had a reason to question it before. It wasn't something you did in cowboy boots, so it wasn't for him. Generally, that was a good rule for him to follow - kept him outta places he didn't belong.

Malcolm grinned. "Okay, so basically the points system works like tennis or volleyball, where you can only win points on your own serve. The ball has to hit the front wall and can bounce no more than once before it's returned. And since it's a little rubber ball, it can really sting when it gets going."

Raylan listened, eyebrows lifting a little as Malcolm went on. "Sounds chaotic." He cut the last of his ham into pieces and stabbed one. "I think I'll stick with pool and baseball. There's only minimal savagery there. Well.. Most of the time."

He glanced up between his bites. "You play it a lot?"

"I used to," he admitted. "It was a good way to get some stress out when I lived in DC. Haven't played much since I got back to New York."

He looked up at Raylan from under his brow. "Though I kind of like batting now as a stress-reducer."

"Sounds like a DC/New York thing," he said, eyes narrowing a little in mock suspicion as he took his last bite and started the smallest of clean ups, stacking his silverware and napkin on the empty stacked plates.

"You won't hear any argument from me. Works my shoulders out after gettin' slammed through whatever work puts me in." When his eyes returned to Malcolm's, they were smiling to match the faint, fond pull of his lips. "Plus, your shoulders need to do something different. Make the rest of us feel better about ourselves."

"Oh, you mean than axe throwing," Malcolm laughed. "Well, I have to keep up my championship form. What if I want to throw competitively again?" he pointed out. "Oh, hey, I wonder if they have an axe throwing club here..." he mused, looking out the window like he could suss it from their booth.

"Between that and yoga," he defended with a bob of his head and spread of his smile.

The idea that someplace as lowkey as Lexington might have an axe throwing club made him laugh as he bobbed his head again. "I doubt you'll find one but you might prove me wrong. We're into some weird stuff down here sometimes." Ren fairs, and the like, the only places where he could imagine such a thing really being used and displayed.

"Got clubs for all sorts of things I've never looked into."

"See? Lots to do," Malcolm teased. "I'll be fine."

He took one more bite of the eggs, then put his cutlery on it and pushed it towards the centre of the table.

"So did I beat Willa if we subtract what got onto her face instead of into it?"

He hummed a note as he drained his cup, eyes narrowing playfully before he turned his attention towards Willa and the question that came with it. Huffing a smirk, he bobbed his head. "I think so, yeah. But she's already got you beat on formula so I think it evens out."

Catching the waitresses eye, Raylan lifted his head fractionally and after a moment, nodded as she signialled she'd be over in just a minute.

"Hopefully it'll hold her over til I get back home again. You too. Save room for the lemon Jello later, right?"

Malcolm laughed. "Yes, of course. Someone once said 'there's always room for jello', but they did not know what they were talking about." He drained his cup. "I'm looking forward to the barbeque," he admitted. He didn't know how the food would go down, but just... the whole event of it. It was exciting. "I've never been to one where I ate anything."

"Bill Cosby, I think," he answered as his smirk took over the rest of his features, eyebrows lifting a little. "Yeah? Maybe today'll be the day that changes. I'm lookin' forward to grillin' with a beer, if I'm honest."

The waitress came over with their check and Raylan fished out his wallet for a few bills to drop onto the table before scooting out and collecting Willa from her chair.

"Grab the bag?"

Malcolm was happy to grab the bag as he scooted out of the booth.

Most people who held barbeques he'd been to were not interested in cooking a piece of chicken with nothing on it for the weirdo they had to invite because he worked in their office or lived in their building. Like baseball, it was bound to be a thousand times better with Raylan than it had been in any previous experience.

He held on to the bag as they headed out to the car, putting it in the back seat where Raylan could easily retrieve it.

"If you're heading to work, I'm just going..." He gestured vaguely at Lexington. "Make my way from here," he suggested.

Once he'd gotten Willa back into her car seat, Raylan left the door open as he propped an arm on the top of the car as they talked.

"Are you sure? I can drop you off at the house first, it's not a problem. I don't like just.. leavin' ya here."

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