[[ downtown lexington, kentucky ]]

[itwasjustified]

[ "it's not like a change of scenery would hurt." ]

"And that's the only skyscraper -- and I use that term loosely -- you'll see while you're here," Raylan says, pointing out Fifth Third Bank, its black glass and blue detail standing out like a nun in a strip club against the empty skyline.

The city built out, not up; Lexington sprawls to every border of Fayette County, and Fayette County is Lexington.

"It's really just a big town that thinks it's a city," he adds, and points toward the corner of Limestone and Barr, where his office is, before they hang a left off Main to double back toward Ramsey's Diner.

Comments

[notenlightened]

"And here I thought you guys weren't going to have any buildings over five stories," Reese quips lightly, brows knitting together over the rims of her aviator sunglasses as she surveys the lone skyscraper, hands briefly resting on her hips.

Apparently, she's overdressed weather-wise, her light corduroy jacket folded over one arm and the sleeves of her scoop-necked blouse pushed up to her elbows, but there's enough of a breeze to keep cool.

"Speaking as someone from a big city, it's got a lot of catching-up to do," she adds.

[itwasjustified]

He's grateful for the breeze; dressed down in jeans and a checkered flannel shirt, one that's worn thin by years of wear and washings, a gray Florida Gators T-shirt underneath, he'd be sweating without the cooler air.

Adjusting his omnipresent Stetson, he chuckles.

"Oh, I doubt it'll ever catch up."

He glances at Reese.

"I'm just waitin' to hear 'quaint' roll off your tongue."

[notenlightened]

"You can wait all you want," Reese says, her Look obvious even behind the tinted shades.

Just for that, he'll be hard-pressed to find an opportunity where she'll actually use the word.

"So," she adds. "What do you think; where should we go?"

[itwasjustified]

He doesn't bother to hide every trace of his bemusement.

Quirking an eyebrow in her direction, "You ever had fried green tomatoes, detective?"

[notenlightened]

Be prepared to wind up on the receiving end of a you're crazy expression, Raylan.

"Fried green what-now?"

[itwasjustified]

He just grins, bright and easy.

"Then I know exactly where we're headed."

Ramsey's isn't far; less than ten minutes later, he's holding open the door to the local institution, and they're greeted by a smiling hostess who can't yet be out of undergrad at the University of Kentucky.

The place is crowded, but not overflowing, its rickety wooden tables and mismatched kitchen chairs filled with couples old and young, college students, and families.

"Right this way, y'all," the friendly twenty-something says, adjusting the loose knot on her colorful tie and tugging at the hem of her Wildcats tee.

Once they're seated, she leaves them with menus, assuring them their server will be right with them.

Raylan plucks two sets of rolled silverware from the glass mug at the edge of their table, and slides over one.

"Everything's good, but if you want somethin' vegetarian, I'll go ahead and tell you it's probably cooked in bacon grease."

Or lard.

[notenlightened]

Reese removes her sunglasses, slipping them into the pocket of her jacket - taking care to not crush them as she places said jacket over the back of her own chair.

The place itself gets a quick survey; she may or may not be comparing it to anything you'd be likely to find in L.A. and coming up with nothing.

The mention of grease, unsurprisingly, earns a brief wrinkling of the nose.

"Oh, yum," she mutters, low and under her breath.

[itwasjustified]

"I thought I'd save the black-tie affair for dinner," he says, unable to resist a gentle rib.

"In the meantime, I promise this is some of the best home-cookin' you'll ever find outside your grandma's kitchen."

[notenlightened]

"Do you even own a dinner jacket?" she teases, watching him from across the table.

"It'll spoil me for my home-cooking, at least. Mom's was never phenomenal."

[itwasjustified]

"Then you'll have to be sure to save some room for pie."

He removes his hat as their server approaches, hanging the Stetson on the back of an empty chair.

"And I do clean up nice," he adds. "On occasion."

[notenlightened]

She cracks a smile - though, in Reese's case, it might be closer to a smirk.

"I'll be the judge of that," she challenges, pressing her tongue against the inside of her cheek.

[itwasjustified]

Chuckling under his breath, "Well, judge, I guess we'll see if I've also invited my very own jury and executioner out for a visit."

When their server reaches the table and sets down two ice waters, Raylan orders a plate of fried green tomatoes, and requests a couple more minutes to look over the menu.

(As if he already doesn't know what he's having; the fried chicken is some of the best in town.)

[notenlightened]

Admittedly, the menu is for Reese - who, once it arrives, may spend quite a long period of time buried behind it, poring over her options.

All of which look fantastic.

Her stomach grumbles audibly, reminding her that it's been a while since she's eaten.

"What're you thinking?" she asks, peering over the menu at him.

(It might be a question mostly in relation to what he's eating. Then again, it might not.)

[itwasjustified]

His eyes flick up to meet hers.

"That there's a hat store close by if you wanted to get yourself a Stetson."

[notenlightened]

Reese quietly scoffs.

"Sorry to break it to you," she murmurs, "but I don't do hats."

[itwasjustified]

He cracks a wider smile.

"Relax, I'm only kiddin'."

A beat.

"The fried chicken's great; so's the Hot Brown."

He glances at the menu again.

"Hell, you wanna get one of everything, you won't hear me complain."

[notenlightened]

She's realizing now that she's still fairly stiff (there's one thing that'll take the edge off, Dani) and rolls her shoulders to try and alleviate it.

"The chicken, then," she says, taking a small sip of water.

"But no one's stopping you from eating your heart out."

[itwasjustified]

"I better not," he says dryly, reaching for his water. "I gotta watch my figure."

But judging by the way he sprinkles salt on a fried green tomato slice and douses it with pepper vinegar, he's not too concerned about his weight.

He nudges the platter closer to her before he cuts into the slice waiting on his saucer.

Sincerely, "I hope you like 'em."

[notenlightened]

"Bet it'd be easy to lose it around places like these, though," Reese points out, eyeing the way he douses his tomato before gingerly applying a small amount of the same to her own.

Her eyes are soft for a minute, watching him.

Then, quietly: "Thank you."

She takes a small bite.

[itwasjustified]

Fork hovering over his plate, he's wearing an expectant half-smile.

"Culinary experience to die for, or one that just makes you want to die?"

[notenlightened]

Her eyes widen slightly, but she masks it with a quick nod, another bite.

Her conclusion, casual as can be: "Not bad."

(Understatement of the year.)

[itwasjustified]

His smile widens a fraction.

"Hold on to that badge -- you'd make a lousy food critic."

[notenlightened]

"It's delicious, alright?"

Since that's apparently what he needed to hear so badly. Reese smirks.

[itwasjustified]

He snickers into his water glass before taking a sip.

"Secret's in the bacon grease," he teases, just before their server returns with plates laden with boneless fried chicken breasts and sides.

Moving his glass to make more room on his side of the table, he looks over the spread with approval before glancing up at Reese.

"You know, I didn't think to ask before -- have you spent much time outside the West Coast?"

[notenlightened]

"Oh, that just makes me feel so much better about enjoying it," she admits, looking out over the spread with eyes that may or may not be bigger than her stomach as of now.

It's too early to tell, either way.

"Barely any," she adds, helping herself to some chicken.

"Why, am I that obvious?"