Raylan bobbed his head to the side in consideration of that, nodding. That made sense. She was.. adjacent, a point of fascination for those obsessed, but largely (probably) as a way to get to Malcolm. It was an ugly thing to think about, much less for someone to do, but that was the way of the world.

"An' now you're here, where almost no one knows the story. I'd ask if it was freeing, but considerin' we're all trapped here, 'Freeing' isn't the word I'd use. Hell, maybe in the end, your dad just becomes a footnote in your success, huh? The Desk is somewhere. Trusted by thousands if not millions of people.. Depending on how far the range of your station really gets. Think you'll write a piece on the shit here when you get back? Dip your toes into what they'd call fiction? Kinda like Journalism, right?"

Except everyone would assume it was fiction, not what they had and were suffering through.