Malcolm Bright

Raylan's mouth tightened a little around the edges at the paper's opinion on the Whitly children, but he busied it with finishing the rest of his plate and taking a single bite of toast before dropping it on the plate to wash it down with the rest of his coffee.

"I bet that paper regretted it's editor." He glanced at the phone at the next question. "Seems to be only a block or two from here. Walking might be faster, considering your traffic. Your shoes ready for that? Got scuff insurance?"

Now he was just teasing.