(Untitled)

[angriestman]

Between high school and finally up and leaving Harlan at twenty, Raylan Givens had mined Kentucky coal. Not sure what he wanted to do with his life, it'd been a good paycheck, even with the danger and long hours. Sometimes, years away from that time, he wakes up with the taste of coal dust and dynamite smoke in his mouth and he knows that those

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[butcivilization]

Wearing muddied jeans and a rather ridiculous looking straw hat, Combeferre resembled the modern-day cowboy lounging in front of the Compound more than he did the nineteenth century Frenchman he had once been. His hut had been left standing after the hurricane, thank God, but it had been much in need of repairs, and so he had spent the morning at the task, despite Thomasina's fond protestations that he find someone who knew a bit more about wielding a hammer than he did. But he had waved her off - what right did he to raise a family in this idyllic place if he could not even repair his own home? Books and medicine had their place here, but he would not shirk from teaching himself a new and useful skill, even if it took all week

[angriestman]

Raylan's really not got a leg stand on when it comes to hats. He nudges his own back on his head and looks up at the guy standing in front of him. He slips his cigarette between his lips and takes a long drag.

"There's a lot to be said for a good hat. Even if it is on the ridiculous side."

[butcivilization]

"I'm not even certain this is a good one," Henri countered. He rose holding the hat and turned it between his hands. "But I suppose it's served its purpose. My wife ordered me not to get sunburned, you see," he finished with a rueful huff of a laugh.

[angriestman]

"It's certainly not a bad one," says Raylan, who favours his own hat. "Yeah, my ex-wife was a big believer in self-preservation too."