a change of season

[toooldforlosing]

Raylan squinted up at the carnival that suddenly appeared on the horizon, signalling he'd turned up back in the nexus. He found it, at the moment, hard to care as much as he probably should about the fact he was no longer walking toward an emergency room.

It had been a long-ass day, and Stigmata was still free, if he could make it there. The fact he'd been shot was a minor consideration. Gut wound wasn't going to kill him. ...right away.

He wondered what would happen, if he died in Xanadu. Probably more or less the same thing that would happen if he died anywhere else, whatever that was.

Shaking off that line of thought (he'd no desire to see who'd be waiting him on the other side of that particular door), he headed into town, keeping an eye out for something like a doctor's office. If he makes it to Stigmata, at least he could clean the wound, he guessed. He moved slow, hatless, and with a hand pressing his flannel shirt to his side.

Comments

[norea]

"...Raylan?"

She senses the wound almost before she sees him, attuned to pain and injury as she is. That it's attached to someone she cares for is yet more troubling, and although Hasi doesn't run, the click of her heels speeds up to a staccato as she makes her way over with worried eyes.

There are more auspicious ways to reunite, but neither of them have ever been blessed by circumstance in that way.

[toooldforlosing]

"Oh, hey." He gives her a lopsided smile. "Long time, no-" He winces, a stab of pain keeping him from finishing the cliche. "...yeah. Hey."

He could be in worse shape, but he could be in much better too.

[norea]

"What," she says, the words precise as she endeavors to maintain calm (since he's apparently gone a bit Raylan about the whole thing), "has happened to you."

She puts her hands on his shoulders, steering him toward a bench.

[toooldforlosing]

He lets her steer him. "Some asshole shot me." He says this on about the same level as someone taking his parking spot.