six feet tall and bulletproof

[[ milliways, upstairs ]]

2012-05-01T02:53:38Z

Raylan's hands relax on Dani's hips, and he lifts his head from the curve of her neck and shoulder.

"You know," he says, low and lazy as he eases onto the mattress, "if you're trying to kill me?"

The cool sheet sticks to his sweat-slick back; he strokes Dani's heated skin with the pad of one thumb, willing his heart rate to drop somewhere in the neighborhood of normal.

"This isn't the worst way to go."

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[[ oom : wheelsy, south carolina ]]

2012-03-01T18:50:30Z

[ "I really need you to tell me exactly what the hell is goin' on." ]

Raylan wakes in a vacuum.

He lets his eyes adjust to the darkness, and takes silent stock of himself.

He's in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room. These sweats aren't his. His head feels like a bag of cotton balls left to dry-rot in Death Valley, and the rest of him is hardly any better.

He has no idea where his boots are, let alone his gun.

He gets up, keeping his movements slow and quiet, but the bed creaks in spite of his efforts.

A few long minutes later, he limps out of the bedroom, and shuffles toward the unmistakable smell of coffee.

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[[ oom : not lexington, kentucky ]]

2012-02-26T03:11:34Z

[ previously, or: the end of the end of the universe ]

Raylan's sense of direction has deserted him.

Sideways feels like down, and upright feels like sideways, and he is everything but prepared for his boots to meet a solid surface that isn't quaking or rumbling.

Partially sun-blind, he hip-checks a trash can, and winds up on all fours.

Once his elbows give, he's face-down in sweet-smelling green grass.

He'll get up in a minute.

Or five.

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