Raylan scoffed, chuckling as he eyed his sandwich, dark eyes flitting up to meet Malcolm's starkly brilliant blue.

"No. Art is just an older, stricter generation than I am. Doesn't quite understand my situations. Doesn't understand why I don't deal with them the way he would." But then again, Art wasn't as angry as Raylan was against the type of people he came up against. Criminals, openly and happy to be so.

"The way of the world, our elders resisting change and telling us how things outta be done." At least out here. The carefree sentiment was coupled with a deft bite of his quickly vanishing sandwich.

"Where'd you grow up?"