(Untitled)

[river_meimei]

When River comes in, she's wearing a yellow sundress and pink lacy sweater, and her black stompy boots. She's grinning down at the floor, as if still amused by something someone said just before she opened the door

Comments

[itwasjustified]

When River approaches the lake, she'll find a deputy U.S. marshal along the shore.

He's skipping rocks, watching ripples ring the surface of the moonlit water with every successful throw.

His mind is somewhere else - in the heart of eastern Kentucky's coal country - so those successes are something of an anomaly.

[river_meimei]

River's steps are quiet, on the grass. Not silent, though; she's a city girl and a spaceship-dweller, and she's not trying to sneak.

And she's approaching at an angle, safely in his peripheral vision. Call it habit, maybe, or call it accident.

But she is approaching, though she'll stop a few yards away.

[itwasjustified]

He's less focused than he probably should be, out here.

River's presence only registers a few bare seconds before she steps into his periphery.

He doesn't start or stiffen; he turns, and offers up a half-smile and a nod in greeting.

[river_meimei]

River half-smiles back. Her face is a pale blur, surrounded by tangles of dark hair, in the thin light of the stars and crescent moon. But the lake reflects light back, and there's more slanting out from the bar door; it's enough to see by, once your eyes are accustomed.

"Teach them to fly," she says softly to the rock in Raylan's hand, under the lapping of the water.

[itwasjustified]

He tilts his head, just so, to catch her soft-spoken words, and he's still not sure he's heard her right.

"I'm not sure they're flying, tonight, so much as sinking," he says, more than a little wry.

[river_meimei]

River grins up at him, quick and bright.

"Swimming's the alternate version," she allows.

[itwasjustified]

He breathes out a short chuckle.

"That's certainly the more optimistic way of looking at it, I suppose. But I believe mine are closer to drowning."

He spins the narrow, flat rock in his fingers, and opens his hand, offering it to River, in case she's like to try her likely better luck.

[river_meimei]

River's hand emerges from the folds of her red cloak, and turns palm-up in a gesture halfway between tentative acceptance and simply exploring the air. She'll take the rock if he hands it to her, but she's not reaching out all the way for it.

In the meantime, she's making a friendly face at him. "Got no lungs. We'll have to call them mermaids."

[itwasjustified]

"We could do that," Raylan says, even more laconic than usual.

His eyes flick from her outstretched hand to her face, and back.

A moment later, he hands over the rock.

[river_meimei]

River looks satisfied.

And then curious, a moment later, as the small flat solidity of the rock lands in her hand. She lifts it for a better view, though what River sees is as usual anyone's guess; she cradles it in her fingertips as though studying something new and strange, like a rock from a far galaxy, or a small but complex sculpture. Delicately, she runs the fingers of her free hand over the rock's dull edge, feeling the contours of it.

In the crook of her elbow, her Halloween-acquired basket bumps against her hip, sending a last faint haze of steam drifting up into the air.

[itwasjustified]

Raylan's taken by her curious inspection.

Part of him wonders if he's made a mistake. Maybe he's just handed off a dirt-speckled rock to a princess unaccustomed to handling something so mundane.

Or maybe she's Little Red Riding Hood.

Are there rules against skipping rocks with fairy tales come to life?

He hopes not.

His eyes flick to the basket; he watches the steam dissipate into the cool evening air.

Conversational: "I'll take it on good faith that you're not keeping demon bunnies in there."

[river_meimei]

River gives him a weird look, sidelong. But it's friendly!

"The edibility is in question."

Beat.

"They'd set the basket on fire," she adds, sagely.

[itwasjustified]

"I'd have to agree on both points," he says, just as reasonable.

"And they might set us on fire, too."

[river_meimei]

River makes a face at the prospect of being set on fire.

"Their manners," she agrees, with exaggerated disappointment, "are suboptimal."

[itwasjustified]

Raylan makes a face that reflects agreement and resignation.

Demon bunnies. What can you do?

"We'll just have to make up for their lack of propriety. Set the right example, and so forth."

A beat.

"Unless you don't think they'd appreciate our efforts."

[river_meimei]

River grins at him over the rock she's holding, bright and a little conspiratorial.

Raylan gets points for a good sense of humor!

"It's a hypothesis. Gather the data if it's mannerly."