Raylan Givens (
itwasjustified) wrote2010-05-28 11:48 pm
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[[ lexington, kentucky ]]
[ "you do realize you're pokin' fun at the man who's supposed to explain box trifectas to you tomorrow, don't you?" ]He's still in jeans and cowboy boots, but Raylan's dressed a little less casually this morning -- instead of a T-shirt and well-worn flannel, he's in a checkered button-down, tie, and sportcoat, Stetson ever-present on his head.
Double-checking the room number, he tucks the paper bag he's carrying beneath his other arm before he knocks on Dani's door.
(Nestled inside are muffins from the best bakery in town, and beneath those, a box of granola bars from Whole Foods -- he couldn't resist after a particular bit of conversation yesterday.)
When she opens the door, she'll find him carefully transferring the bag back to his free hand while he balances two coffees in a travel tray.
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Though she wasn't expecting breakfast to literally be brought to her. (At the most, she was originally planning on taking advantage of the continental setup being offered downstairs - or, at the least, just grabbing a quick coffee.)
Therefore, she's still only half-dressed, one high-heeled shoe on and digging the other out of her suitcase when she hears the knock at the door.
Trying to hop over while slipping it on isn't proving to be very fruitful, and she's half-breathless and bent-over by the time her hand closes around the door handle, her hair hanging in her face.
Her other hand quickly combs her hair back.
"Hi."
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"Hey."
He likes seeing a snapshot of her like this, a little disheveled, a little off-kilter.
"Hungry, or have you already eaten?"
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Her hand freezes halfway through her hair, her gaze dropping to the bag and the coffees. Reese straightens up.
"You brought me breakfast," she states.
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A glance at the bag, and back to Reese.
"It seemed like a sensible thing at the time."
A beat.
"If that's all right?"
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Reese looks up at him.
"No, it's fine - here, come in, let me take something so you don't have to juggle it."
She steps aside, her foot finally slipping into the rebellious shoe.
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The room's relatively neat, all things considered (it would've been messier if she'd had a rougher night), but she still moves to straighten a few things after setting down the coffee tray on the small corner table.
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Setting down the bag, "Go for a run this morning?"
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She takes a seat at the foot, reaching out to snag one of the coffees.
"Did a nice loop around the area."
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Limestone and Vine, in particular, are a mess of orange construction barrels and gravel.
He takes out the muffins -- two blueberry, two cranberry almond, and two of some kind he can't remember, but they look close to healthy -- and places them on napkins on the table.
A second later, the box of granola bars joins the baked goods, and Raylan's fighting a smirk when he turns to her.
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Some projects have been in the works for months, at any rate.
Her gaze lands on the food.
"What, were you planning to feed five of me?" she teases, her smirk widening when her eyes trail over to the granola bars.
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A beat.
"But hell, you may hate muffins."
He didn't consider that possibility, but at least he has the granola bars.
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"I do."
She plucks a piece from off the side, pinching it between her fingers, and takes a bite.
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"Oh, but you don't," he says, unable to resist and cracking a smile. "You hate 'em, and you're just tryin' to avoid wounding my fragile male ego."
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However, there might be a smirk she tries to hide.
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"Good -- I'd hate to think you were sufferin' a fool, especially if the one in question is me."
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"Oh, you don't have to worry about that."
Her feet gently scuff against the carpet underneath them.
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"What should I be worrying about, then?"
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"You'll get fair warning."
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"That gives me the cold kind of comfort, at best."
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She punctuates the question with a quick sip of coffee.
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Muffin or not, there's no breakfast for Reese without her caffeine.
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Half-smug, "It's even fair trade."
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Fondly muttered: "Who's the hippie now?"
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