Bill came downstairs with the intent of trying his luck outside at the lake. Since things didn't go so well with the bullfrog, he figures it'd be better to fish for fish
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The bar proper is busier than Raylan's seen for a while.
Leaving his Stetson on his nearby table, and his jacket draped over the back of his chair, he forgoes bothering any of the harried wait-rats, and approaches the counter.
Finding an empty spot at one of the few unoccupied stools, he requests a dish of vanilla ice cream, and a cup of coffee.
Noticing Bill at his elbow - thankfully, without any paint, this time - he tips his head in greeting.
Raylan appreciates that level of respect; settling into his seat, his eyes flick from the Stetson, and back to Bill.
"I've never understood the appeal of those things mixed in ice cream," he says, with a nod toward the candy, "but if you're one of those who does, I won't hold it against you."
"My Aunt Helen made something similar every year, when I was a kid," he says, still smiling slightly at the memory. "Chocolate pudding, chocolate chips, and Oreoes were all in it, only instead of worms, she'd cut up marshmallows to use for headstones, and put them in rows, so it looked like a graveyard in a cake pan. She called it her version of Death by Chocolate."
Leaving his Stetson on his nearby table, and his jacket draped over the back of his chair, he forgoes bothering any of the harried wait-rats, and approaches the counter.
Finding an empty spot at one of the few unoccupied stools, he requests a dish of vanilla ice cream, and a cup of coffee.
Noticing Bill at his elbow - thankfully, without any paint, this time - he tips his head in greeting.
"Doing all right today, Mr. Pardy?"
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"Hello, marshal. I-- I'm alright, I guess."
His gaze then drifts down to the ice cream.
"How're you?"
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He takes in Bill's posture, and glances at the boy's depleted supply of gummies.
After only a moment of hesitation: "Do you want to keep eating those in peace, or come over and sit with me?"
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Looking at his gummi worms, and glancing at the door, Bill knows he can't leave just yet so he nods.
"Alright."
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With a quiet thank you, Raylan loads the bowls and his cup of coffee on a tray, and leads the way to his table.
He sets down everything, and moves his hat to the seat of an empty chair, safe from potential spills.
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He trails after, bringing along what's left of the gummi worms, and takes a seat at the table.
Bill looks over at the hat, but knows much better than to touch it, given how careful Raylan is with it.
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"I've never understood the appeal of those things mixed in ice cream," he says, with a nod toward the candy, "but if you're one of those who does, I won't hold it against you."
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"Y'know what's good, though? Worms in chocolate puddin'. My mom makes it, with oreos. S'called worms in dirt."
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"She make that one especially for Halloween?"
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"How'd y'know?"
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Bill's laugh hitches a little, and he takes a quick glance at the front door, making sure it's still there.
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"I've heard the door can disappear, sometimes. Are you waiting on yours?"
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He shifts on his chair, and looks back at Raylan.
"It's back now."
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"Congratulations?"
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"Thanks."
Taking his spoon, Bill stirs his ice cream.
"I been real ready t'go home for awhile now, but I'm gonna miss folks here. I guess I'm worried 'bout not findin' it again."
Looking up from his bowl, Bill checks Raylan to see if that's a stupid thing or not.
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