Sometimes, he just wants to let Rachel sleep. He's restless, so he walks, and, more often than not, he ends up in the Hub with a drink in front of him. Tonight, he's left the hat at home, so it's just him sitting there. He does have his gun at his hip. He wonders if there'll ever be a time when he'll be comfortable without it. Maybe he'll never be able to leave that part of himself firmly behind.
He hasn't seen her since the first day that she arrived. He watches her for a long moment, head tilted to one side.
She can't help it - there's still going to be an initial beat when she looks at him and sees Wes. The hair is longer, and the hat is there (though not tonight), but the overall resemblance is uncanny until he opens his mouth and she catches a hint of that Southern accent tinging his voice. She knows he's here, has known he's here since he walked in, but doesn't attempt conversation until he beats her to it.
"Fine," she replies, nodding politely. "Thinking of looking for someplace else to live, though. The Compound is nice, but it's not really my style."
"Yeah. You've got to find somewhere you're happy."
Still mired in home improvements, Raylan can understand the impulse. He takes a sip from his drink and stands, walking over to her and touching the back of the spare chair.
"Do you mind if I sit here?" he asks. "If we're going to talk anyway."
"Do I - no, no, it's fine, please," she murmurs, motioning to the chair with one hand as both eyebrows rise in mild surprise.
She'd hate for anything in her demeanor to scare him off; if anything, the fact that he reminds her of Wes is a strange comfort, not to mention the other part where he's not bad to look at. She can almost guarantee that he has someone else in his life, though. She'd be willing to bet money on it.
"Are there just the huts, or what?" she asks, glancing over at him. Seeing as how he's been around longer, he must have some idea.
"Mostly huts, yeah," he says, nodding, swirling the liquor in his glass. "There's some higher end stuff, I think, but, mostly, it's huts. The building crew turn out some excellent work, though. We're not dealing in rustic."
"Kentucky?" Ellen prompts, after briefly searching her memory for the last conversation they'd had - the first conversation, as well, during which she'd been very grateful her mistaking him for someone she used to know intimately hadn't ended in a more embarrassing manner.
"I guess I'll just have to do a little research myself," she says. "Even if I know the higher-end won't be at any cost to the nonexistent piggy bank."
"Harlan County," he confirms, with a little nod of his head and a barely there twist of his mouth. More and more, he hopes that he'll never have to go back there - with Helen apparently buried there's nothing to hold him there anymore.
"And there's all sorts. I'm rebuildin' at the moment, but I'm sure the building crew'd be happy to help you out."
"Looks like the island's a far cry for both of us," Ellen tells him. His reactions are subtle, hard to pick up on if you're not paying attention, but she is, and she catches that slight quirking of his mouth.
"It's a long, long way from home." He drains his glass and gestures for another; Rachel'll sleep for a while longer. "Apart from draft beer? Seasons. We pretty much do winter and summer."
He hasn't seen her since the first day that she arrived. He watches her for a long moment, head tilted to one side.
"How're you settlin' in?"
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"Fine," she replies, nodding politely. "Thinking of looking for someplace else to live, though. The Compound is nice, but it's not really my style."
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Still mired in home improvements, Raylan can understand the impulse. He takes a sip from his drink and stands, walking over to her and touching the back of the spare chair.
"Do you mind if I sit here?" he asks. "If we're going to talk anyway."
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She'd hate for anything in her demeanor to scare him off; if anything, the fact that he reminds her of Wes is a strange comfort, not to mention the other part where he's not bad to look at. She can almost guarantee that he has someone else in his life, though. She'd be willing to bet money on it.
"Are there just the huts, or what?" she asks, glancing over at him. Seeing as how he's been around longer, he must have some idea.
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He flashes her a grin.
"It's still fancier than where I grew up."
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"I guess I'll just have to do a little research myself," she says. "Even if I know the higher-end won't be at any cost to the nonexistent piggy bank."
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"And there's all sorts. I'm rebuildin' at the moment, but I'm sure the building crew'd be happy to help you out."
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"Is there anything this place doesn't have?"
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"Aside from autumn. It's gorgeous in the autumn, but the chill of winter quickly follows and then you might as well just hunker down and bear it."
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