For Raylan
Rachel would have never, in her previous life, admitted to wanting a quiet night. Quiet tended to be one of the things that sent her out looking for trouble. But tonight, when she doesn't have to be at work and it's only a week out of one of the worst days she's had here, quiet sounds good. She's been cooking, plus she cleaned her hut and if Brooke were here Rachel's pretty sure she might actually die of shock. Face scrubbed free of makeup, she's relaxing on her porch, in jeans and a simple white t-shirt. Just trying out being still. For a moment. Until Raylan arrives, at least. It's stupidly obvious that she needs to make more of an effort...to open up or not expect the worst in people all the time or maybe a combination of a lot of things. Personally, Rachel feels she has made great strides lately in being less of a fuckup, and the fact that she didn't face-plant into all that cocaine should say a lot. And there's the fact that Raylan and Brooke keep coming back. She knows there are easier ways to get sex on the island and that Brooke has more than enough friends, so maybe there's something there. Something worth trying to move past herself for.
She even allows herself a small, private smile when she sees a familiar figure move around the bend towards her place. Let's herself admit a little bit that she wants him to keep coming back.
She even allows herself a small, private smile when she sees a familiar figure move around the bend towards her place. Let's herself admit a little bit that she wants him to keep coming back.