For Raylan - Dated to Monday the 21st

[sluttylyingliar]

Rachel's still not sure how she feels about Brooke living across the island in a tree. On the one hand, she can wander around in her bra outside without running into Brooke's boyfriends. Plus, Brooke can't check up on her constantly. On the other hand, she maybe secretly likes having someone check up on her. Just a little. It is easier to bring

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[angriestman]

He doesn't know why he's here. He doesn't know that, but he does know that he's really reminded of that night he showed up on Ava's doorstep. I think that would be a crying shame. It's reminiscant.

In the heat of the evening, he's in jeans and an undershirt, plaid shirt open and blowing in what b`reeze there is, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He's still wearing this hat that's far too new to be comfortable.

He takes a breath, pushes his hat back a little further on his head and then he knocks his knuckles against the door-frame.

[sluttylyingliar]

Rachel startles a bit at the soft knock, tossing her magazine on the bed as she stands up and stretches. It's a little too late for Brooke or Charlie and when the door swings open to reveal one Raylan Givens, she has to admit to being surprised.

"Marshal Givens," she murmurs, completely unashamed at her lack of clothing.

[angriestman]

"How old are you?"

It's the first thing out of his mouth before greetings or sorry I woke yous. He just stands there, half leaning against her door-frame, and tries to ignore the fact that she's standing there in panties, and thinks about the one thing that's been bugging him for days.

[sluttylyingliar]

"Twenty four," she answers, frowning a little as she folds her arms across her chest. It's obvious he's older, probably quite a bit older, but she hadn't though that was his problem with this whole thing. "How old are you?"