"Ancient Greek??" came the echo of surprise from Raylan, brows staying tightly furrowed as his attention moved directly over to Callisto launching into her tirade. He didn't understand the words, but tone told him a lot. A lot of rage, a lot of heartbreak and likely a feeling of being helpless over it all to drive her forward.
The hitch of her breath told him something too. For his part, Raylan took it stoically, eyes following her as she paced back and forth, unflinching as she stepped up to yell at him specifically. Even as Malcolm translated, Raylan didn't look away, gears already turning in his head.
As Tim spoke up, Raylan turned his head a fraction, a silent acknowledgement of him knowing Tim was there at all. Oh, Raylan knew about that particular shield. The older marshal was brimming with opinions, but 98 percent of them was kept like sand in the back of his craw.
"So she is a warlord. She and I talked about this a little other day, I know about her family, their death, Xena's responsibility for it. Hell if she shows up, I say we let them finish it, not our place to get in the way. But this ain't Greece. Or whatever landmass she's actually from." No one was asking her to give up any of her shields.
"Nor are we those people. She starts puttin that sufferin' on us, we're gonna have to have a conversation," he continued evenly.
Shit, he'd just wanted a few minutes to eat some food; this was not supposed to be that serious.
"Don't suppose she understands that she's turned into the thing that hurt her in the first place. Shame to think about how many other little girls were robbed of their family. Don't suppose it matters, its not like we're here to litigate historical murders, fuckin' everyone was murdered terribly for the most part... But this is Mathis. Rules are different."
Sucking his teeth for a second, Raylan stepped forwards and picked up the sandwich she'd spiked and dropped it back on his still mostly full plate.
no subject
The hitch of her breath told him something too. For his part, Raylan took it stoically, eyes following her as she paced back and forth, unflinching as she stepped up to yell at him specifically. Even as Malcolm translated, Raylan didn't look away, gears already turning in his head.
As Tim spoke up, Raylan turned his head a fraction, a silent acknowledgement of him knowing Tim was there at all. Oh, Raylan knew about that particular shield. The older marshal was brimming with opinions, but 98 percent of them was kept like sand in the back of his craw.
"So she is a warlord. She and I talked about this a little other day, I know about her family, their death, Xena's responsibility for it. Hell if she shows up, I say we let them finish it, not our place to get in the way. But this ain't Greece. Or whatever landmass she's actually from." No one was asking her to give up any of her shields.
"Nor are we those people. She starts puttin that sufferin' on us, we're gonna have to have a conversation," he continued evenly.
Shit, he'd just wanted a few minutes to eat some food; this was not supposed to be that serious.
"Don't suppose she understands that she's turned into the thing that hurt her in the first place. Shame to think about how many other little girls were robbed of their family. Don't suppose it matters, its not like we're here to litigate historical murders, fuckin' everyone was murdered terribly for the most part... But this is Mathis. Rules are different."
Sucking his teeth for a second, Raylan stepped forwards and picked up the sandwich she'd spiked and dropped it back on his still mostly full plate.