065-071 » assign to oblivion / part iii

[villagemod]

WHO: Everyone
WHERE: Mathias Township proper
WHEN: Days 065-071
WHAT: The residents of Mathias reunite under unnerving conditions.
WARNINGS: (PM this account to have a warning added!)
NOTES: Plotting post over here!

RECOMMENDED ♫ Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross "Outside"

DAY 065-071
ASSIGN TO OBLIVION
“No matter how much time passes, no matter what takes
place in the interim, there are some things we can never
assign to oblivion, memories we can never rub away.”
— Haruki Murakami

Only two days have passed since the town was fractured, leaving residents cut off from those they'd come to know and even care for. A mere two days of wandering the new streets, uncovering more secrets that continue to make little sense of this strange place. Two days with sunrises, sunsets, and nights that seem like any other.

And yet.

When residents wake on this third day, they will find that much has changed. All around them, wherever they may be, there are signs that time has passed without them. Dust covers everything, indoors and out, even areas that were spotlessly clean seemingly hours ago. The residents themselves are covered as well, dust clinging to their hair, skin, and clothing—

Clothing that they may not have been wearing when they went to sleep. Each resident, regardless of the state they were in previously, is now clad in a pair of white pajamas, with long pants and button-up shirts. Those who thoroughly explored Baneberry Hall will easily recognize these articles as identical to those well-stocked in the decaying great house. On top of this, the clothes they wore from home have disappeared, along with anything else they may have brought with them when they arrived or items from home that have been found within the borders of Mathias.

There is no sign that anyone has entered their place of shelter, nor is there any sign of what may have been done with these items or how they came to be wearing these clothes. The dust all around them is undisturbed, almost as if they had been sleeping there for quite some time, though it seems impossible for such a thing to have occurred naturally.


THE NEW ARRIVALS
The newest arrivals to Mathias will wake up on the lawn of Town Hall, at the center of the little town square. They, too, are bereft of any items from home and clothed in the identical white pajamas. There are shops all around them, with houses just beyond, and at first glance, everything seems almost picturesque. Except for the silence that is at times so complete as to be maddening... Welcome to Mathias.

---

SUMMERTIME
— When summer arrives, so too does an outdoor stand in front of the General Store. Sporting a handpainted sign proclaiming Whateley Farm, the stand is overflowing with a variety of produce: berries, plums, carrots, cabbage, cucumbers, green beans, leeks, onions, peppers, potatoes, zucchini, tomatoes, and garlic bulbs. These do not replace the produce offerings normally found inside the market, but they do behave strangely. The stand replenishes sporadically, sometimes every other day or every five days. There is no discernible pattern to when it replenishes, nor is there any sign of how it came to be there at all.

— With the now-complete reverse change of season, much of the autumn debris has cleared from around town. Only a few stray leaves and fallen branches remain, their crisp colors at odds with the warm summer days. The forest has also cleared of much of the fall detritus, making it easier to both follow the paths and potentially spy things that might be out of the ordinary.

---

CONDITIONS UPDATE

— THE WEATHER Summer has arrived in Mathias, bringing with it warm days that average 70°F and comfortably cool nights. The skies are clear throughout the week save for Day 68 when a light rain falls from a grey sky throughout the day.

— THE FOG has maintained its new boundaries.

— Residents may now wander the southern stretch of the forest surrounding Mathias Township — it is possible to leave the paths but potentially unwise to do so.
— The fog has also retreated from the western section of town entirely.
— Access to the northern section of the forest is still blocked beginning a few dozen yards past the treeline; this section of fog will urge residents to stay huddled within the town proper by inducing a physical reaction of panic and fear.

— DISAPPEARANCES AND DEATHS continue! Max Guevara and Liz Brundy have disappeared, and now that everyone is back together, residents will notice that Yennefer, Number Five, and Tony Stark have also vanished.

— ALCOHOL supplies have run dry, save for any dregs that have been squirreled away by individual residents. Moonshine can still be acquired by those in desperate need.

---

OOC NOTES

— UPDATES Don't forget to report updates as they come up! Changes to locations (like toppling a few bookshelves in the library), big plots you have coming up that will affect the game (parties, major property destruction, etc), or exciting discoveries that may tie into the game's mythology (even the things provided by the mod) are very helpful to have in one place so relevant page updates can be made. IC events are also helpful to know about in advance so they can be included in the log write-ups.

— MOD STATUS My non-RP life is busy and chaotic and I continue to ask for your forgiveness and understanding as game things continue to be slower, as I cannot promise timely mod responses beyond weekends and even that is not wholly guaranteed.

— ITEMS FROM HOME All items from home that characters would normally possess have vanished for this log and will return in the next. This includes clothing and possessions they had when they arrived in Mathias, items that were found in the rain, and items that were found in Baneberry Hall and removed from the property. Items from home that were left behind by other characters no longer in the game have also vanished. (All other items and clothing still remain, it is only items from characters' homes that have disappeared.)

— BANEBERRY ITEMS The items from home that were not removed from Baneberry Hall in the last log have vanished from the property. These items will not reappear in the next log. (Please be sure to comment in the appropriate spot on those logs about the state of your character's item for inventory purposes, ie whether they were removed from the property or left behind.)

— ACTIVITY CHECK Beginning with June's AC (posted at the start of July), all tags that consist of only dialogue will count as 0.5 points, not just those that occur in an inbox thread — this applies to both AC and AP totals. This adjustment is an extension of what has been in place since the start of the game: that all dialogue-only inbox tags counted for a half-point. Since such tags have occurred regularly in log threads as well, the half-point status is simply being extended to all tags regardless of location in order to be fairer in point distribution. (Examples will be provided in the AC post to assist with proper counting.)

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Comments

Raylan Givens | Justified

[tinstar]

[We've got a lotta days to cover and Raylan can be anywhere so set something up if you'd like or hit up our plotting post!]

Day 65 - Little OTA late morning, early afternoon, closed to Malcolm mid afternoon for now

[tinstar]

When 1306 and 1308 woke up that morning, they'd find notes on their respective counters in a handwriting that probably only Tim would recognize.

Malcolm, Come meet me on the other side of town. You can find me.

A second note was written, one for Tim - Tim, I'm on the other side of town. I'll call you later. It's all fine.

Raylan was irritated. He'd fallen asleep downstairs in his favorite chair in 1306, heart heavy and still in pain and when he woke up, everything was.. Something had changed. It only took one glance down at his chest, a wild check on his head that sent a plume of dust up into the air and a glance around the now dirty room for his hat for him to confirm it.

"Goddamnit," he muttered. Pushing to his feet, Raylan expected to find himself still aching in the deep, inconsolable way he had been since Mathis decided to beat him against the cliff face. There were questions - always questions. Why was he dressed in all white like he was about to get baptized? Where the fuck had his hat gone? Why was everything, including himself, fucking filthy?

But he couldn't stay here. Couldn't risk seeing Neal, suffering the warning glares he'd get, if the New Yorker would meet his eye at all. He could figure the dust and the clothes out later.

So Raylan wrote and set his notes out, and left.

By the afternoon, he'd gotten some non-baptismal clothes from Poe's Clothes and a shower, but it had also come with several drinks to steel himself. Malcolm was going to be coming over, a clean empty bottle left out on the porch railing as a sign of which house Raylan was in, and he wasn't going to be able to do this without at least a shot or two in his gut.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm was as confused and a little distressed as everyone else on waking that morning. Dressed like his dad put him on edge, until he realized everyone was dressed like his dad and it actually made him feel better.

Though he accounted for Ainsley and Neal and Doc, as well as some of the missing like Jeff and Athena, he had yet to see Raylan.

The note on the counter buoyed him. He supposed there was a point there. They couldn’t do anything about their situation. He got dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and tucked the note carefully into his pocket. Then he ran down to the Gull to retrieve the record of their song. He had it tucked under his arm as he made his way across town, keeping an eye out, smiling to himself at what he knew was Raylan’s signal.

He bounded up the steps, grabbing the bottle on his way in, in case anyone else took it as an invitation. He tapped on the door frame as he stepped inside, to announce his presence, smiling broadly as he closed the door behind him, locking it.

[tinstar]

Raylan knew it was normal and right for him to feel nervous, barefeet pacing back and forth across the floor. His boots had left with his hat and his jeans he'd arrived in. He hadn't had time to check on his badge. He shouldn't be thinking about it, but it was a series of brief escapes.

He looked up at the knock on the door and smiled a softly pained smile at the face that greeted him.

"Malcolm." His glass was set down and he walked over, an arm extending out to welcome him into a hug and a tilt of his head as he claimed a gentle chaste kiss to go with it.

Phone Call for Tim

[tinstar]

Maybe a half hour after Malcolm left, after Raylan had had a few more drinks and washed the evidence of his emotional break and shame off his face, he set about looking for the phone. The house wasn't overly large on the first floor and it only took about ten minutes to hunt it down from under its protective layer of papers.

"Landlines. Who'd'a thought we were goin' back to these."

Didn't matter. Raylan found a spot on the floor and leaned himself up against the wall, moonshine on his side within reach. He knew the extension number for the house and dialed it. Not expecting everyone to be back home, Raylan waited for Tim's voice to pick up the line.

[walkingtrigger]

There were two rings before the younger marshal's voice came over the phone.

"This is weird."

Day 67 - OTA

[tinstar]

The spray of the ocean was nice. It wasn't too late in the day to be hot and the heady smell of salt water let him close his eyes and imagine that he was on a beach he actually liked. So much shit had gone on in the past few days that he was almost sad that it was too early for a drink. His head pounded anyway, stomach churning, angry in its emptiness but all that matched the bruises on his face, his knuckles. Next to him, a carefully curated pile of rocks, perfect for skipping on the water. Or breaking out windows if that was your thing.

He needed something calm and zenful. This was it.

He stopped by the Food Stall on the way home, snatching up a basket of berries and another few plums. God what he wouldn't give for a steady flow of this stuff. Maybe he would start that garden. In the greenhouse. It wasn't a bad idea. If they could be cultivated, then maybe they wouldn't have to rely on this cart that might vanish at any moment.

Hours later and one stop by 1307 for a few fresh bottles of moonshine, Raylan could be found on the porch of a house deep south on Jackson Boulevard. Great view of the graveyard, he thought as he kicked his feet up. Three and a half stars.

[citharede]

They were back. They were supposed to be back. But Tim is at the lighthouse, Raylan hasn't been anywhere she's been able to find, and there's something wrong with her that she can't explain. She tried not to show it at first, tried to pretend everything was okay, but then Jeff had touched her and she'd screamed and there was no explaining it away.

And it hasn't stopped. She can barely stand the feeling of her own clothes, the way they move against her skin. She's barely been able to think, forget sleeping. And everything that makes her feel better, everything she wants--to be held, to hold someone else, to curl up next to Jeff on the couch and watch a stupid movie--it sends off rockets in her brain that make her ball herself into a corner and clutch her head against her knees.

For a second, when she sees Raylan on the beach, she thinks it's Jeff. Only for a second, though, if that. She bolts into a run at once, half-convinced he's going to vanish before she gets there, because apparently this place can do that, it can do that to anyone whenever it wants.

"Raylan!" Her voice breaks a little when she yells his name, and she skids to a halt just out of hugging distance. Her lip trembles a little, and her anger is watery at best. "Where the fuck have you been?"

[tinstar]

The sound of feet in the sand behind him has him turning as she calls his name, face breaking into a soft smile that pinched into concern at the look on her face. He'd been worried about her but Jeff had belayed those concerns the day before. Coward. Maybe he was. Maybe he didn't want her to see him so fucked up and stretched thin. Maybe he wanted to keep her out of it.

"Sorry, Songbird, just.." His attempt at a small smile fell off his face with no anchor in anything to keep it in its place. "Seems Mathis decided to split us all up again." That's what she was talking about right?

He took a few steps forward, expecting a hug that wasn't going to come.

"Are you okay?"

[bonified]

Wynonna has been doing her best to make it seem like everything is okay, only really, she's anything but. First, it was the angst of not knowing if Alice made it to Gus's alright. Then it was living in a time loop for a week. After that, it was being reminded that she killed her sister and now she's waking up in nuthouse pyjamas while being covered in an inch of dust.

This place was making her feel more insane than she ever felt before and bringing with it that intense feeling of loneliness. But, Wynonna Earp didn't show how she felt. So, she pretended everything was fine.

A couple of days later, she's returning from the store with a small bag of fruits and vegetables and a plan to try and make some soup using an old recipe her mama taught her. It was about the only thing she couldn't fuck up making.

Cutting through the same houses she normally does, she notices someone sitting on a porch and realizes soon enough it's Raylan.

"You just set on claiming all the houses in this town or what?" she questions, squinting up at him with a forced half-smile.

[tinstar]

Raylan had seen her come up and hadn't bothered to move, leaving his sneakered feet propped up on the porch edge. He had a bottle in his hand and it was hard to tell how much he'd actually imbibed, though the bottle was already halfway gone. His face was bruised and there was something a little pained and haunted in his eyes when he returned that barely there smile.

"It's what Mathis gets for a cage so small. Restlessness." Because that's totally what it was. "Phillips Drive is pretty well settled, time to start stretchin' out is all."

Maybe he'd done his job there. Maybe it was time to move on, just by a street or two.

"Hope you don't mind a far off neighbor."

going for the beach again because I like it as a setting ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[conning]

Neal doesn't intend to find Raylan on the beach. He's been largely avoiding people since yesterday, except to check in with Malcolm and promise he's coming for his night. He worked for a little while on the new paper garden, before losing focus. Another walk, and he found himself at the beach.

He's wearing shorts. It feels strange. He hasn't worn shorts, even in summer, since he started wearing the anklet. He hasn't been swimming outside of a private pool in the wee hours when no one else was there. He's tempted to go into the water now, but then he spots (that moment: which one of them is it) Raylan down by the water line. It's the stillness that gives Raylan away--Jeff can't seem to hold himself still for more than a fraction of seconds at a time.

Neal makes his way over, slowly, haltingly, not sure he'll be welcome and not sure what to say to start this conversation.

He stops behind Raylan, a few feet back, prepared for the other man to tell him to leave, not begrudging him the urge if he does it.

It's a good one

[tinstar]

Raylan had opted to take off his shoes and roll up his jeans to stand in the rolling surf. It helped him banish Mathis into a temporary rearview as he dug his toes into the cool wet sand. But still he was, as still as a statue, head tilted back into the faint breeze as he breathed in the salt like it might wash him clean.

The sense of someone behind him is what breaks him from his reverie and he glances over his shoulder, holding Neal in his sights for a handful of long seconds before offering him a tired smile.

"Come on in, water's fine."

Telling Neal to fuck off didn't even occur to him, even if his lip and eye were still healing. They'd dealt with the large bits; he imagined there were fragments missed on account of Malcolm being there at all, as necessary as he was in being a facilitator for their conversation in the first place. But if Neal wanted to join him, Raylan wasn't going to say no. To the company or to Neal himself.

Day 68 - OTA

[tinstar]

New day, new you! Let's Talk, KJA Los Angeles When was the last time he'd hear a radio call sign? It was the first thought in days that wasn't contentious and painful and he was grateful for it. Hadn't he asked for summer? Maybe he'd find a Beach Boy's album  and spin it.. in a few days. Maybe one of these kids had made a mix-tape, that had been a thing in the 90's.

Raylan was standing at the Southern treeline, looking more and more like Jeff each day in his t-shirt and jeans, accented with a lovely pair of - would they be vintage now? - converse sneakers. He'd found a baseball cap, for all the good it would do him. Everything is different.. It wasn't just the way Mathis had rolled the clock back on the seasons, making his shirt stick to his shoulders as he makes his way down known land, eyeing how far back the fog had crawled.

But the time he got to The Grey Gull, he and his abused jaw were sweaty and ready for a drink. The first place he headed was the sink in the kitchen where he kicked on the coldest water he could manage and buried his head under it, letting the sound of rushing water and the shock of the cold empty everything else out in his head.  

[confractus]

Billy also hadn't been too keen on the change of wardrobe. It wasn't that he was particularly attached to his clothes - they were pretty ruined, anyway, blood stained and torn in parts - but the vest had been good quality, and his boots gave him a familiar comfort. He and those boots had been through a lot together, and now they were gone, and he'd have to break in a new pair.

Assuming, of course, he could find some that fit him.

In the interim, a pair of joggers and some sneakers that made him feel like a member of New Kids On The Block would do the trick, and some sunglasses he'd dug out of a drawer that could hide at least a part of him.

As he walked, he spotted someone by the tree-line and stopped to watch. After a moment or two of just observing, Billy started to close the distance between them.

"You looking for something in particular?"

[tinstar]

With less leaves on the ground than were there before, there was less for Raylan to hear when people moved up on him but he cared less these days for some reason. He'd yet to have someone come out of no where and tackle him or try and steal a kidney or something. So he wasn't too bothered to hear the voice but when he turned to look at who it was, the face that met him didn't match the tone that he would have placed with said face. Maybe it was the joggers.

It made his head crane a little more, eyes narrowed as he turns to face the man walking towards him.

"Actually, lookin' for the fog that usually keeps us from gettin' more than 2 feet into the bush before feelin' like we're going to puke up our shoes. You're lookin'.. a lot more comfortable. Lotta changes in Mathis, huh?"

the Grey Gull

[nottevintersoldier]

Dorian had been wandering the Town, getting familiar with its limits and it was only a matter of time till he found his way to the beach and the Grey Gull. He remembered there being an offering of supplies and possibly food, but when he walks in he's happier to see the bar. Upon approaching and seeing it's dry, however, his expression turns a little more disappointed.

Though he's rather surprised to hear running water and he'll poke around till he sees the source. A man with his head under the spigot.

"If you are trying to drown yourself, I'd think the ocean would be easier."

[tinstar]

The sound of someone coming in was washed out with the rush of water that was blissfully blanking out any form of thought that wasn't hedonistically enjoying the sharp cold rolling over all his senses. He loved Summer. He hated humidity. The voice, however, was a different story and Raylan pulled back from under the tap, head turning that way with wild, soaking bangs as hazel eyes landed on the new face.

Likely not a threat. Anyone standing in the doorway after he's blinked three times was also likely not a hallucination or one of Mathis's tricks. His eyes softened and he huffed a smile.

"Sorry, I missed that," he admitted, looking back into the sink long enough to flip his hair and head back, sending water streaming down his neck and shoulders. "I was, uh. Tryin' to beat the heat a little without crusting over or gettin' sand everywhere. Didn't hear you come in." Obviously. "You new?"

Night 68

[walkingtrigger]

After some investigating of the various options, Tim had settled on house number 320 located at the most northeast corner of King Lane. He'd stood there staring at the hated sand for a long time, but ultimately it's close proximity to the Lighthouse combined with its ship's watch tower had won him over.

The interior needed a deep clean but was open and spacious. Combined with a lot of covered decking and the exterior kitchen it was a good space. There was even a hot tub, which was absolutely disgusting but otherwise appeared intact. A project to tinker with, keep him from dwelling.

He'd spent the day cleaning, the early evening moving from 1308. Not that he had much to move, just clothes, books, the LEGOs and a couple jigsaw puzzles. When he'd taken the last of what he intended to relocate from 1308 he'd written a note and tacked it to the railing for 1306's deck:

Raylan - King Lane, northeast. Number 320. T

As night fell Tim had the windows and doors wide open, letting in the cool breeze coming off the ocean. While the sniper was already curling his lip at the way sand seemed to be finding its way off the shoreline and up into the living room, Raylan had been on to something with the ocean. The steady crash of the waves broke the silence that often settled on Tim when he was alone back home, and the breeze really was delightful. It had already blown out a lot of the stuffiness that had been in the house when Tim had first picked the lock.

He had unearthed linens and after running a couple of empty loads, had them washing in the piggyback washer/dryer combo at the back of the house. An open bottle of moonshine sat on the kitchen island with a half drunk glass beside it. Tim himself moving methodically through the kitchen cabinets, cleaning and investigating the integrity of various electrical leads to the stove and fridge, as well as the plumbing under the sink.

The exciting squatter life.

[tinstar]

Raylan had spent the day avoiding the houses. He knew Tim had to leave but that didn't mean that he had to be there to watch it and tear himself up over. What's done was done and whatever lashes he took for it, had to take in the future for it. Well. That was the way of life sometimes, wasn't it. They were adults and their choices led them here.

He's not sure he would have done a lick of it differently.

The note was easy enough to find and after tearing it from it's home, Raylan ambled his way over to the house with that address. It'd be a two or three minute run as the crow flew. Maybe he was going to have to start.. Running to be prepared for it. The idea was just as strange as anything else in Mathis.

As he came up onto the porch, he thought about just walking in but it felt wrong, and he opted for knocking instead, idly grateful that he'd long outgrown childish teenage nerves about what was going to happen when the door opened.

Grey Gull

[myfavoritemurder]

Callisto sits on the counter at one end of the bar when Raylan walks in, eating straight out of a box of dry cereal, but when he heads into the kitchen she tosses the box aside and immediately hops up to follow.

"Who?" she asks when he comes up for air, stroking her own jawline to indicate what she's curious about.

Day 69 - OTA

[tinstar]

Some waters had calmed but Raylan still found himself restless, not eager enough to test the social strains he'd put on his house and mainly staying outside of them. He was sure someone would be ashamed, offended, hurt, but frankly, Raylan Givens needed a day off.

A day off that started with Irish Whiskey and landed him down at The Grey Gull sorting out bottles. "I feel like I'm lookin' at a flea market," he mused out loud to himself and the layout of some 15 empty bottles that needed to be filled. He'd have to go a-hunting for the crates to carry them in, but a box would do for now as he made his way towards 1307. They were coming to the end of this batch and Raylan was keen to see how his hand was at making a batch of his own without Doc's oversight. He'd been apprinticing for months, that was enough, right?

Later - On Stroker Park - Locked to Doc

Maybe he shouldn't have come back here but he'd half cleaned the house on Stroker Park and it seemed good enough place as any to hole himself away, drink the rest of his sores closed and maybe soak in the bath. Maybe. It was a place to start, to let his inner bruises heal a little.

His soul and heart were still to heavy to be 'normal' around normal people, so here he was on his porch with his bottle of moonshine, ruminating on the sneakers on his feet like they were discussing god or something before his eyes laid heavily on the graveyard across the street. It was almost like being home, staring at the thing he'd eventually lie in. Thankfully, the bottle was in the middle of saying one of many eulogies.

[thering]

To add to the list of life's more intriguing questions, such as 'do cowboys shit in the woods?', can you still spot two hats drifting around town if neither of them have their hats?

Clearly they're still able to find each other without the obvious marker, so that's something at least, although it's Raylan who spots Doc first, throwing a dried bouquet of muted colours onto the ground in the graveyard. The gravesite for Will Graham is only just starting to dry out. Before they all came back here, Doc had buried all his personal possessions next to him, in case any of them became loaded with memories he never wanted to share. It seems as though the troubled man will not be returning, and Doc had not spotted Claire come back either. Idly he had wondered if it was perhaps selfish to feel relieved that Ellie did.

In any case, Will had spent a lot of time in the greenhouse. Doc would not claim to be a sentimental man, but flowers are wasted in a greenhouse hardly anyone else visits anymore when they could be christening dirt mounds.

Mid-afternoon - Locked to Malcolm

[tinstar]

It was going to happen. It had to happen. Much like Raylan's slight read as: Significant obsession with the Chasm, the Marshal had locked onto a need - something solvable that he could point his will at. Something that wouldn't blow everything else up. After the craziness of the week before and the way that Mathis liked to change the BPM of the song they were all dancing to, Raylan needed keep this promise to himself, to Malcolm.

They had a picnic date, goddamnit.

He'd be the first one to admit that it wouldn't be half of what it was without Neal Caffery; the whole house, though not fully done, screamed Caffery in the best way. Only one wall was really done, and a sketch of the starts of a river laid into the floor.

A plaid blanket (Raylan had hunted for that, through many a chest and closet, it felt right) was laid out on the floor, a clean wicker basket with two thermoses that were cozied with a cloth full of berries and a small stack of sandwiches had been strategically placed in front of it. It was hard to make it look like anything other than what it was but, he had tried. It was topped off with a bottle of iced tea and a bottle of moonshine, couple of glasses to pair with it. On one of the few flat surfaces, Raylan had set up the borrowed record player and a small stack of records that he thought Malcolm might like.

He'd stared at it for a good fifteen minutes before calling the house to warn Malcolm he was on his way, and inside five minutes, he had the man standing outside Neal's little project.

"This is gonna sound.. silly but.." Raylan glanced at the door he was blocking. "Close your eyes?" His face winced a little, unsure how Malcolm would like it and a little nervous in general.

[abrightboy]

After a rough couple of days, Raylan had turned up for his night shift at home and had laid Malcolm’s most debilitating concerns to rest, so - when summoned - Malcolm arrived with the same lack of trepidation and eager smile he’d displayed the last time Raylan called. Charmed blue eyes looked up at him at the request, then obediently closed as he tried not to look as giddy as he felt. There was no way Raylan would ask him to close his eyes to approach something bad and the anticipation of something good sent butterflies through his stomach.