There was no hat to knock off this time, just his lunch procurements that were tossed to the side with the sudden rush of Neal. He got that punch in as they hit the ground and Raylan scrambled onto one shoulder so he could swing at Neal in return.

I don't want this.

He moved on automatic muscle memory, taking a few shots, throwing a few of his own, the both of them immediately dusty with the taste of blood in their mouths.