[[ lexington, kentucky ]]

[itwasjustified]

[ "you brought me breakfast." ]

After a morning spent wandering the International Museum of the Horse, Raylan has soaked in more than he ever forgot about the history and role of the horse in modern civilization.

He can also rattle off the last dozen Derby winners in chronological and alphabetical orders now -- something he cheerfully subjects Reese to during the drive to Keeneland.

It's all gently rolling meadows, green grass, and picturesque white fences as they near the track; once Raylan pulls into the entrance and joins the long line of vehicles inching toward the designated parking lots, he fights the urge to (mis)use his badge to cut to the front.

Patience wins out, and fifteen minutes later, they're strolling through the main gate. The paddock is a smorgasbord of old money, new money, and laughing college students. Amid the riot of summery dresses, skinny jeans, seersucker, three-piece suits, and every fashion statement in between, Raylan directs Dani's attention to a pocket of grooms, owners, trainers and jockeys. A moment later, a bay trots out on a lead, sporting a cardinal-red blanket emblazoned with the number 11 in white stitching.

"Think that one looks like a champion?"

Comments

[notenlightened]

She wishes she could claim a technique, a method of how to pick the next due winner, but all she can do is look up at him, her smirk plain and clear, and nod.

"You got it, marshal."

[itwasjustified]

Two hours and five races later, Raylan's hat is off to Reese.

Literally.

"Be honest, now. You're a regular at Santa Anita."

[notenlightened]

She's not going to gloat.

Not openly, anyway.

"Beginner's luck," she decides, with a small half-shrug.

[itwasjustified]

"Uh-huh," he drawls, replacing his hat.

"That's fine, keep your secrets; I'm not complainin'."

[notenlightened]

She looks down at the folded bills.

"I don't even carry this much at once, normally."

[itwasjustified]

"Terrible cross to bear," he deadpans, lifting his third lemonade to take a sip.

[notenlightened]

"Yeah, well, you're not the one who isn't carrying a gun."

She feels surprisingly naked without it.

[itwasjustified]

"Assumin' you don't incapacitate your hypothetical assailant first," Raylan says, tipping his head toward Reese, "and that's a big assumption, I swear I'll do everything in my power to keep you and your newfound wealth safe and sound."

A beat.

"So help me God."

[notenlightened]

"Oh," Reese murmurs, fighting a smirk back all the while, "I just feel so much better now that you've gotten God involved."

The bills discreetly disappear into that back pocket, and she hitches her thumb over her shoulder.

"Want to get out of here?"

[itwasjustified]

He glances around the considerable crowd, then back to Reese.

With two races left, if they leave now, they'll beat the exit traffic.

"I'm ready to scoot whenever you are. You feel like quittin' while you're ahead?"

[notenlightened]

She surveys the crowd briefly, then nods.

"Why risk ruining my lucky streak?"

[itwasjustified]

He nods toward the exit.

As they make their way toward it, "You know, that makes you smarter than, oh, about ninety-six percent of the people here."

[notenlightened]

Completely dead-pan: "You know, I get that a lot."

[itwasjustified]

Teasing, "You find much intellectual competition in L.A.?"

[notenlightened]

Casually, with a shrug: "About as much as you'd expect."

[itwasjustified]

His lips twitch as he digs his keys from his pocket.

"Joking aside, thanks for comin' down to slum it with us uncultured rednecks."

[notenlightened]

She shrugs again, cracking an easy smile.

"I get the feeling this isn't even the biggest highlight of 'coming down to slum it'."

[itwasjustified]

Opening the passenger door for Reese, he chuckles.

"Let me know when you get the itch to raid a meth lab."

[notenlightened]

"You'll be the first to find out."

She gives him a look before slipping into the passenger seat.

[itwasjustified]

He rounds the car and folds his frame behind the wheel.

"On second thought, I'd hate to see this turn into a workin' vacation."

[notenlightened]

"That'd defeat the whole purpose of me coming out here in the first place."

She leans back in the seat, arm resting on the windowsill.

[itwasjustified]

"Well, that."

The engine turns over, and Raylan winds his way toward the nearest exit gate.

"And I don't think I want know what might happen if I had to log your name and badge number in the system here."

He smiles slightly to himself, then looks over.

[notenlightened]

"Maybe it's best we never know the answer to that."

Her gaze drifts towards him, then back out the window.

Reese smiles.

[itwasjustified]

He turns his attention back to traffic, and makes an easy left onto Versailles Road.

"You heard anybody pronounce this yet?"

He inclines his head toward the six lanes in front of them.

"It's Verr-say-uhls, here."

[notenlightened]

"You really are a country boy," she murmurs, slowly shaking her head.

Still, it's not a criticism.