[[ 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 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.

[itwasjustified]

"True as that is, that ain't me -- that's the way of it," he says with a soft chuff. "I can say Versailles just fine, but, hell, I do that, and nobody around here knows what I'm sayin'."

A beat.

"You know, I've even read about the treaty. And it's a place in France."

Then, smug, "I hear there's a palace, too."

[notenlightened]

"And I thought you only had your looks to fall back on, marshal," she counters, drumming fingertips on the windowsill.

"Yet you continue to surprise."

[itwasjustified]

Lips quirking, he changes lanes to pass a slow-moving diesel truck.

"Can I be real predictable for a minute and ask if you're feelin' anything in particular for dinner?"

[notenlightened]

A few more seconds of drumming, and she replies:

"How do you feel about wings?"

[itwasjustified]

"I know just the place."

[notenlightened]

"'Course you do."

[itwasjustified]

"Sit tight, detective. I'm not drivin' us to KFC."

[notenlightened]

"No, because you want waffles for breakfast," she mumbles.

[itwasjustified]

"I do."

A beat and a grin.

"But I wouldn't take anybody to KFC of my own volition in the first place."

[notenlightened]

"Something tells me it's an insult to the real thing."

Her eyes find his in the rearview.