Chupacabra? Is that what they were calling it? As much as he didn't want to sit down, he knew what the gesture meant and his brain fell back into LEO roles. There wasn't good cop and bad cop, it was just bad cop and bad cop, and he took the offered seat to try and offset that feeling as best he could.

His blood was still pumping, the taste of blood still hot in his mouth, mixing with the tea as he swallowed it all down. Raylan glanced into the cup and thought about staying quiet, letting Malcolm do his soft voice, no sudden movement approach, but he had to inject something.

"You're right to be pissed off at me, Neal. I fucked up. I did the wrong thing, made the wrong decision. I accept it. Can we start there? Can you accept that I understand that?"