Malcolm Bright

The relief at the reach of Malcolm's hand was visible, Raylan's face relaxing some of the seriousness that had set in it, as he leaned down to kiss him back, free arm sliding around Malcolm's waist. The tight hug was returned with a deep breath from Raylan.

"Thank you," he whispered, and it had nothing to do with Malcolm's safe travel wishes, though he appreciated those too. Raylan pulled back enough to pull Malcolm's face back into view and, forever a little dramatic, kissed him again.

When it broke, Raylan gave him a pull of a smile. "I'll see you later."

It wasn't going to be later but it was a good lie to leave on. A hopeful one. With more than a little reluctance in the smile, Raylan pulled away and headed for and out the door.

Once outside and in the car, Raylan had to take a minute to just breathe and process the heavy stone in his gut. Everything felt different. As the night replayed over in his mind, from the hanging out trying to watch TV, to Malcolm's ordering perfectly for him, his mother, his sister, that fuckin' party, Raylan pulled out into traffic and started driving.

Twenty minutes later, he'd finally made a decision and turned around. Twenty minutes after that, US Marshal Givens was back at Claremont Psychiatric hospital, this time, with his hat.