'Kiss my ass!' Normally Tim would have shot back something like gladly! But nothing about these moments were normal.
He had already been waterlogged even before he went sailing into the ocean, but now he was waterlogged and sandy as he lay on the beach trying to remember how to breath. The wind howled above him and though it was a level of fanciful that Tim usually didn't allow himself, he believed he could hear the wind telling him to stay down.
Flexing his soaked hands across the wet sand he was barely aware of his fingers forming the universal gesture of retreat. Not unlike Raylan, Tim was staying down; accepting Mathias' superior power and practically apologizing for getting above himself. It seemed as if the wind abated a little, though that could have just been Tim's wishful thinking.
He'd been in enough fisticuffs, car wrecks and other blunt force trauma events to understand that the longer he lay in place the harder it was going to be to get his muscles to move. When it seemed that Mathias had decided he'd been spanked enough, for the time being anyway, the wind and rain no longer pummeling him into the shoreline Tim started to draw himself up to his hands and knees.
By the time Raylan reached him, the younger marshal was still on his knees, sitting back on his heels and looking more than a little dazed. His brain function was not quite to the point of practicality of what to do next. When he saw Raylan, lanky body tilted against the wind, Tim raised a hand in a wave and he would stay on his knees even when the older man reached him.
Blinking up at Raylan, Tim appeared to give it some thought before his lips moved. Whether his partner could hear him or not, it would be easy to read the sentiment. "That was better theory, than practice!"
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He had already been waterlogged even before he went sailing into the ocean, but now he was waterlogged and sandy as he lay on the beach trying to remember how to breath. The wind howled above him and though it was a level of fanciful that Tim usually didn't allow himself, he believed he could hear the wind telling him to stay down.
Flexing his soaked hands across the wet sand he was barely aware of his fingers forming the universal gesture of retreat. Not unlike Raylan, Tim was staying down; accepting Mathias' superior power and practically apologizing for getting above himself. It seemed as if the wind abated a little, though that could have just been Tim's wishful thinking.
He'd been in enough fisticuffs, car wrecks and other blunt force trauma events to understand that the longer he lay in place the harder it was going to be to get his muscles to move. When it seemed that Mathias had decided he'd been spanked enough, for the time being anyway, the wind and rain no longer pummeling him into the shoreline Tim started to draw himself up to his hands and knees.
By the time Raylan reached him, the younger marshal was still on his knees, sitting back on his heels and looking more than a little dazed. His brain function was not quite to the point of practicality of what to do next. When he saw Raylan, lanky body tilted against the wind, Tim raised a hand in a wave and he would stay on his knees even when the older man reached him.
Blinking up at Raylan, Tim appeared to give it some thought before his lips moved. Whether his partner could hear him or not, it would be easy to read the sentiment. "That was better theory, than practice!"