[[ 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

[itwasjustified]

His expression turns wry.

"I haven't been back all that long -- I was workin' out of Miami before I got reassigned."

[notenlightened]

"Just the same."

The grin doesn't disappear.

"Not a bad fit."

[itwasjustified]

"Like the hat?"

[notenlightened]

"Like the hat."

Reese pauses.

"Did you have to get that sized, or was it all a matter of trying on the right one first?"

[itwasjustified]

"I tried on a few before I gave up. Then -- and I'm sure you're gonna laugh me out of this place, and I'm all right with that -- "

A beat.

"I had this one custom made."

[notenlightened]

"You're not serious," Reese breathes, partly in an effort to keep from laughing.

"You are serious," she adds, moments later.

It's difficult to tell whether she finds it endearing or just plain hilarious.

[itwasjustified]

He smirks, which could be in agreement or disagreement (though the former is more likely).

"I think you're singularly interested in my hat, Reese. I think you want to try it on."

[notenlightened]

"What?" Reese asks, visibly taken aback.

She even straightens up in her seat.

"Oh, no. No, no, I'm good. I'm not in the habit of, um, trying other people's hats on - "

- and now she's trying to figure out why that sounds so dirty in her own head.

[itwasjustified]

That smirk morphs into a full-fledged grin.

"If you say so, detective."

[notenlightened]

Reese resorts to the distraction of shoving a forkful of mac and cheese into her mouth.

It only partially works, if the recent pinkness on her cheeks is any clear indication.

[itwasjustified]

Gentleman that he (mostly) is, Raylan turns his focus back to his food to spare Reese any further embarrassment.

He's nearly finished when he speaks again.

"Should I get real predictable and ask why you became a cop?" he asks, reaching for his water glass. "Or is that a topic you'd rather slide right by?"

[notenlightened]

If she were to say she'd gone into law enforcement because of her father, that'd be a lie.

(Mostly.)

"My father was a cop," she answers, done with her own plate's contents by this point. "He's retired, now, but - his partner back then, she was just a real model for me, you know? Proof that women could handle the job."

She doesn't mention that Jack Reese's former partner later became her boss - as well as the person who singlehandedly thrust her into rehab when things took a pretty bad turn - but if the subject comes up, it's going to be danced around.

For now.

[itwasjustified]

"I don't know why there's so much stigma for women with badges, anyway," he says, and polishes off the last of his green beans.

"Women are usually better shots in the first place -- better depth perception."

And statistically less likely to resolve a dispute by pulling the trigger.

[notenlightened]

"Well, some people just have very old-fashioned ideas about who they think should get the badges and guns to begin with," she responds, an obvious note of distaste slipping through.

Like Crews' former partner.

"Not that that makes it right," she quickly adds.

[itwasjustified]

"No, it's never right," he agrees with a shake of his head.

"Good ol' boy politics are like cockroaches, though. I've seen 'em in every office I've ever worked in."

[notenlightened]

"How many offices would that be?" she asks, though it's certainly more on the teasing end of a question.

She nudges her plate away from her.

"If I eat any more, I'm literally going to explode."

[itwasjustified]

"If I have to remember every place I've lent a hand to over the years, it'll be a while before I can answer that."

He lifts his nearly empty glass, ice cubes clinking against its sides.

"You're sayin' you didn't leave room for pie."

Tsk, tsk, Reese.

[notenlightened]

Oh, now you're winding up on another Look, Raylan.

"Maybe half a piece," she concedes.

"If I get some help with the other half."

It'd be a shame to waste good pie, especially if it's as good as he's claiming.

(She can't help but wonder if it's fruit - and then wonders what Crews would have to say about fruit pies.)

[itwasjustified]

"Half'll do me just fine."

With a quick grin, he plucks the pie menu from its roost between the ketchup and silverware mug.

"You pick -- there's not one on there I don't like."

[notenlightened]

"At least you're not a picky eater."

She only need to read over it once to make her voice.

"The cherry-almond."

[itwasjustified]

He shoots her a lazy grin -- that's one of his favorites, after all.

When he places the request with their server and she asks if they'd like it à la mode, he looks to Reese in deference.

(That look is reminiscent of a hopeful puppy.)

[notenlightened]

Never let it be said that Reese can resist the puppy expression.

(It's cats she doesn't like.)

"Oh, go ahead," she mutters, half to him while the smile she gives the server is friendly enough.

"You're going to be bad for my health," Reese adds, after the girl leaves.

[itwasjustified]

He allows himself a tiny smile; ice cream is one of his favorite indulgences.

"You're on vacation."

A beat.

"But I guess I could drive you over to Whole Foods -- you can buy organic granola with the rest of the hippies."

[notenlightened]

"Oh," Reese mutters, and then, a little louder: "Oh."

Pause.

"You did not just call me a hippie."

[itwasjustified]

"I may've implied it, but I didn't mean to."