Clearing his throat as Malcolm got up, he glanced at the ladies with a nod of his head and a polite 'Excuse us,' as he followed, taking his scotch glass with him. It didn't take more than three additional feet for Raylan to already feel a little better, despite the bit of tension that was still in him, like a coiled spring aimming to get ready to be released.
"A walk around the room was a good idea," he said with a bob of his head and a shallow pull from his glass before he looks over at Malcolm again. "I probably could have handled your mother a little better." The admission came with a flicker of responsibility for how quick his temper could be when rubbed the wrong way that was replaced by the edge of his still simmering soul. Raylan looked ahead again to side step a passing waiter.
"But the sooner it's over, the happier I'll be. This isn't the kind of place for me. In more ways than one." Manners and self-awareness kept him from saying more at the exact moment; there was no sense in riling himself up tighter for the rest of the evening.
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"A walk around the room was a good idea," he said with a bob of his head and a shallow pull from his glass before he looks over at Malcolm again. "I probably could have handled your mother a little better." The admission came with a flicker of responsibility for how quick his temper could be when rubbed the wrong way that was replaced by the edge of his still simmering soul. Raylan looked ahead again to side step a passing waiter.
"But the sooner it's over, the happier I'll be. This isn't the kind of place for me. In more ways than one." Manners and self-awareness kept him from saying more at the exact moment; there was no sense in riling himself up tighter for the rest of the evening.