![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
fictionally.
Her shift’s ended earlier than expected, and usually that’d be enough to have Lia kicking the asphalt and cussing up a storm, but not today. Maybe it’s because this is a steady gig and the next shift isn’t an ‘if’ but a ‘definitely’ and the ‘definitely’ is tomorrow at ten o’clock sharp. Maybe it’s something they slip in the water hereabouts. Who knows. She doesn’t, and for the moment she doesn’t mind it all so much. The afternoon’s nice enough, and even if she’s not entirely sure what to do with it – she can roll.
After changing out of her little blue dress and straightening up her room – for all that it’s in a rundown motel, it’s still hers – she runs out of shit to do and flops back on her bed. What is there to do in Lexington on a Thursday? Blowing her hair out of her eyes, she runs through her options. Could wrangle with the basic cable and try and veg out. Could walk up the road to the batting cages and hang out with that boy who ran the machines. Could crash the local hoedown.
It’s Kentucky, she’s sure there has to be a hoedown somewhere.
For lack of anything else, she just starts walking around, tossing her keys up in the air and catching them. She’s surprised her feet find their way to the steps of the federal building downtown – and shrugs.
Eh. What the hell. Why not? What else is he gonna be doing.
It’s short enough work figuring out the directory, and soon enough she’s hopping off the elevator with a clear view of the marshal’s office. She quirks an eyebrow as she slips in between people – they’re seeming hella busier today than she’d been, and there’s a thought that they ought to either swap out the door for a revolving one or just do away with it altogether. She watches at least two people nearly walk into it, too involved in whatever their manila folders are telling them. Snorting a laugh, she plops herself onto the bench and checks her slouch to make sure nobody goes and trips on her feet. Even if it’d be funny, she doubts that all would share her unique sense of humor.
She leans back in her seat, breathing in the smells wafting all around. Colognes and perfumes, cheap greasy food, stale coffee, and a ridiculous amount of stress all bundled up into little personal packages. But she’s not interested in any of that, and keeps inhaling quietly until she manages to pin down that one scent that just says Raylan. Once she’s got it, she relaxes (which is weird, cause she didn’t even know she was that wound up, and the hell is up with that). Now she can just wait for Raylan to finish whatever he’s doing in there because it stands to figuring that if she can at least find him, he can easily sniff her out. It’s almost kind of unfair how much better he is at it (not that she’s jealous of the giraffe, psh, that’s crazy talk, get out of here).
Of course, that plan gets shot all to hell when she notices someone’s standing next to her bench expectantly. Oops.
The first thing that flashes in her brain is social worker, what with the snappy slacks and jacket, and she can’t help but go tense and rigid even as she sits up the straighter. “Uh. Hiya.”
“Hi there,” is the unfazed reply, and the impression Lia gets is that this woman will not tolerate any kind of foolishness. “Do you have an appointment up here, miss?” That’s when she catches sight of the holster on her hip and she breathes again. Gun-toting cowboys? Yes. Nosy do-gooder case-pushers? Hell fucking nah.
“Not really,” she says with a shrug. “Nothing official, anyways. Just waiting on, uh—“ it takes a moment to remember the whole stupid formal thing, but she’s pretty sure the moment calls for it – “Deputy U.S. Marshal Raylan Givens to finish up or get a free minute or whatever. I’m chill waiting ‘til then though.”
The woman arches a delicate eyebrow and looks down skeptically. “Are you now?” And as the silence stretches on forever (or at least it feels like a good slice of forever), goddamn if Lia’s not feeling half her age and caught in the cookie jar. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.
“I’m not sure when he’ll be done, but you can at least wait inside.” She inclines her head and waits for Lia to get up and start following. “I’m Deputy Brooks, and you would be…?”
“A friend.” The glance that gets her nearly makes Lia reconsider being a smartass. But only nearly, and she flashes a cheeky grin that says as much and walks into the office proper. Raylan’s leafing through a file or whatever, feet up on the desk, and the face he makes at the sight of Lia side by side with Rachel makes her want a camera right then and there. He doesn’t quite scramble out of his seat, but it’s a near thing, and Lia just grins the wider.
“Deputy Givens,” Brooks says dryly, one hand on her hip, “this young woman says she’s here to see you.” Raylan practically wilts under that tone – the one that’s saying just what in hell are you doing with this girl and I will get an answer on this or else – and contains a grimace.
Apparently Raylan getting such visitations is odd enough that two more guys stop to watch the goings-on, and the older gives Ray an eye. “I wasn’t aware your social calendar had been blossoming so, Raylan.”
“Chief Deputy Art Mullen, Deputy Tim Gutterson – this is a friend of mine—“ and he’s at least got the gumption to keep going in spite of three sets of eyebrows going up all at once in disbelief at that, Lia will give him that much – “Cecilia Vedder. Lia, guessing Rachel already introduced herself.”
“Nice enough to meetcha,” Lia says cheerfully with nods all around and very much enjoying life right now, thank you very much.
“Vedder, is it? Now where do I know that name from?” The one dubbed as Art is scratching his chin thoughtfully as a lazy shit-eating smile spreads across Tim’s face.
“Wouldn’t that happen to be the name of the teenager a month or so back managed to evade the best efforts of Deputy Givens?”
Lia’s grin doesn’t dim a bit and she rocks back on her heels, hands stuffed inside her pockets. “It’s a legit possibility.”
Rachel crosses her arms and even though she’s not explicitly smiling, Lia can tell she wants to. Just like she can tell that Raylan would much rather be anywhere else but here even before he tries to protest the facts of the case. “Now, there were some extenuating circumstances—“
“Yeah,” Lia butts in as she plants her own on the edge of his desk. “Can’t forget the part where I doped you up to the gills before ditching ya.” She’s rewarded with a heartily non-sympathetic ‘ouch’ from Tim and a twitch of a smile from Rachel.
Art rolls his eyes, snorts – she immediately decides she likes him – and turns to go back to his office. “Well, I suppose it’s better late than never.”
Oh yes indeed, Lia decides as she cackles and Raylan’s nose wrinkles like he’s stepped in dog shit and hates just about everything. She will most definitely be needing that camera.
After changing out of her little blue dress and straightening up her room – for all that it’s in a rundown motel, it’s still hers – she runs out of shit to do and flops back on her bed. What is there to do in Lexington on a Thursday? Blowing her hair out of her eyes, she runs through her options. Could wrangle with the basic cable and try and veg out. Could walk up the road to the batting cages and hang out with that boy who ran the machines. Could crash the local hoedown.
It’s Kentucky, she’s sure there has to be a hoedown somewhere.
For lack of anything else, she just starts walking around, tossing her keys up in the air and catching them. She’s surprised her feet find their way to the steps of the federal building downtown – and shrugs.
Eh. What the hell. Why not? What else is he gonna be doing.
It’s short enough work figuring out the directory, and soon enough she’s hopping off the elevator with a clear view of the marshal’s office. She quirks an eyebrow as she slips in between people – they’re seeming hella busier today than she’d been, and there’s a thought that they ought to either swap out the door for a revolving one or just do away with it altogether. She watches at least two people nearly walk into it, too involved in whatever their manila folders are telling them. Snorting a laugh, she plops herself onto the bench and checks her slouch to make sure nobody goes and trips on her feet. Even if it’d be funny, she doubts that all would share her unique sense of humor.
She leans back in her seat, breathing in the smells wafting all around. Colognes and perfumes, cheap greasy food, stale coffee, and a ridiculous amount of stress all bundled up into little personal packages. But she’s not interested in any of that, and keeps inhaling quietly until she manages to pin down that one scent that just says Raylan. Once she’s got it, she relaxes (which is weird, cause she didn’t even know she was that wound up, and the hell is up with that). Now she can just wait for Raylan to finish whatever he’s doing in there because it stands to figuring that if she can at least find him, he can easily sniff her out. It’s almost kind of unfair how much better he is at it (not that she’s jealous of the giraffe, psh, that’s crazy talk, get out of here).
Of course, that plan gets shot all to hell when she notices someone’s standing next to her bench expectantly. Oops.
The first thing that flashes in her brain is social worker, what with the snappy slacks and jacket, and she can’t help but go tense and rigid even as she sits up the straighter. “Uh. Hiya.”
“Hi there,” is the unfazed reply, and the impression Lia gets is that this woman will not tolerate any kind of foolishness. “Do you have an appointment up here, miss?” That’s when she catches sight of the holster on her hip and she breathes again. Gun-toting cowboys? Yes. Nosy do-gooder case-pushers? Hell fucking nah.
“Not really,” she says with a shrug. “Nothing official, anyways. Just waiting on, uh—“ it takes a moment to remember the whole stupid formal thing, but she’s pretty sure the moment calls for it – “Deputy U.S. Marshal Raylan Givens to finish up or get a free minute or whatever. I’m chill waiting ‘til then though.”
The woman arches a delicate eyebrow and looks down skeptically. “Are you now?” And as the silence stretches on forever (or at least it feels like a good slice of forever), goddamn if Lia’s not feeling half her age and caught in the cookie jar. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.
“I’m not sure when he’ll be done, but you can at least wait inside.” She inclines her head and waits for Lia to get up and start following. “I’m Deputy Brooks, and you would be…?”
“A friend.” The glance that gets her nearly makes Lia reconsider being a smartass. But only nearly, and she flashes a cheeky grin that says as much and walks into the office proper. Raylan’s leafing through a file or whatever, feet up on the desk, and the face he makes at the sight of Lia side by side with Rachel makes her want a camera right then and there. He doesn’t quite scramble out of his seat, but it’s a near thing, and Lia just grins the wider.
“Deputy Givens,” Brooks says dryly, one hand on her hip, “this young woman says she’s here to see you.” Raylan practically wilts under that tone – the one that’s saying just what in hell are you doing with this girl and I will get an answer on this or else – and contains a grimace.
Apparently Raylan getting such visitations is odd enough that two more guys stop to watch the goings-on, and the older gives Ray an eye. “I wasn’t aware your social calendar had been blossoming so, Raylan.”
“Chief Deputy Art Mullen, Deputy Tim Gutterson – this is a friend of mine—“ and he’s at least got the gumption to keep going in spite of three sets of eyebrows going up all at once in disbelief at that, Lia will give him that much – “Cecilia Vedder. Lia, guessing Rachel already introduced herself.”
“Nice enough to meetcha,” Lia says cheerfully with nods all around and very much enjoying life right now, thank you very much.
“Vedder, is it? Now where do I know that name from?” The one dubbed as Art is scratching his chin thoughtfully as a lazy shit-eating smile spreads across Tim’s face.
“Wouldn’t that happen to be the name of the teenager a month or so back managed to evade the best efforts of Deputy Givens?”
Lia’s grin doesn’t dim a bit and she rocks back on her heels, hands stuffed inside her pockets. “It’s a legit possibility.”
Rachel crosses her arms and even though she’s not explicitly smiling, Lia can tell she wants to. Just like she can tell that Raylan would much rather be anywhere else but here even before he tries to protest the facts of the case. “Now, there were some extenuating circumstances—“
“Yeah,” Lia butts in as she plants her own on the edge of his desk. “Can’t forget the part where I doped you up to the gills before ditching ya.” She’s rewarded with a heartily non-sympathetic ‘ouch’ from Tim and a twitch of a smile from Rachel.
Art rolls his eyes, snorts – she immediately decides she likes him – and turns to go back to his office. “Well, I suppose it’s better late than never.”
Oh yes indeed, Lia decides as she cackles and Raylan’s nose wrinkles like he’s stepped in dog shit and hates just about everything. She will most definitely be needing that camera.