onlyhearmusic | [the last voyages] ic inbox

No. You don't.

[He turned roughly and began to stalk away, headed for the stairs to get to another level. Any other level.]

Ya say ya do, but the truth is ya want me ta sit, heel, lay down like a good dog and that ain't happenin'.

[Raylan longsteps after him, catching up easily.]

That's just what you've convinced yourself that anyone with authority wants. Likely because that's the only kinda authority you might've seen and my opinions on the quality of that authority aside, this ain't the big house, this ain't Sing-Sing or Alcatraz - [Insert your favorite state prison here.] and the Admiral doesn't pull in suckers for the rest of us to piss on to feel better about ourselves.

That is what they want, because that's tha only way ta deal with people that don't conform ta their society. Ya do as yer told, ya do what everyone else does, or ya don't do any of it at all.

[He paused on the stairs to glance at Givens again.]

Do ya know who I am?

[Raylan stops, left hand on the railing and looks at Collins from under the brim of his hat, eyebrows raised slightly over an unimpressed face.]

I know what you are. Murderer, unrepentant, kill for the thrill of it, or so I've heard, and part of a string of brutal crimes in the same place that Arthur Lester comes from. [He'd seen plenty of that kind of man. Plenty of ugly, plenty of blood, plenty of 'for the hell of it' evil. Collins wasn't standing above a crowd of any type.]

Who you are? I don't think we can get to that inside a month and philosophy ain't exactly my strong suit.

[He smiled at the description. He didn't want to be above any of that. That was exactly who he was. And that was all that mattered.]

Right ya are. I'm the Butcher. [He started walking again.] And that's that.

No. You're a butcher. And right now, an ineffective one. Which, by the way, ain't really on the option for negotiation.

[He didn't feel the need to toot his own horn in return.]

Now that we've sorted that out, would you mind if we got back to the business of the day?

Not where I came from, bull. People know who I am. It's the Butcher.

[He snorted.]

Ya got as long as it takes ta get back ta me room.

[Which was one floor away and seeing as they were just about down with the stairs... not much longer. Unless Givens wanted to play hard ball.]

You're not where you're from. Here, you're just Dennis Collins, one strike away from bein' a ghost. You wanna suffer for the hellva it, I won't stop you but at this point it is fully your choice.

[Once they're out of the stairwell, it's easy to stay at his side and Raylan's got no problem getting ahead the one stride needed to block Collins's door.]

We'll be doin' face to face check ins daily. Give me that and I'll otherwise try to stay outta your hair, bad behavior aside. I know you don't care about this shit and that's fine, but that doesn't mean we're not gonna work it. You say no, we'll do this little run around each time for the whole month.

[He stopped to glare at Givens as he blocked the door. He was half an ounce of will power to rolling his eyes but managed to keep his gaze straight and angry.]

What difference does it make then? I ain't gotta agree, you've already made tha decision fer me. Now move.

I got responsibilities to fulfill, and it's your choice how much of your time you waste doin' this particular little dance.

[He is not, in fact, going to move just yet.]

When you decide you're tired of bein' off key, you let me know. I've got no reason to have her keep it on you, but it comin' off is a ball still in your court.

[Now he shifts to step outta the way.]

Be seein' you tomorrow then.

[His jaw clenched again as Givens's words hit their mark. Collins didn't say another word, however; he simply went back inside his room once the lawman stepped aside.]

[True to his word, Raylan didn't linger around or otherwise hang around any place he didn't normally in his existence on the Barge - he let Collins be. Until the next day, anyway. Raylan was a man of his word and the only way to keep being known as that was to follow up with his promises, but that didn't mean he had to go full asshole about it.

No one was strong armed into help and he'd well learned that lesson.

So he let Collins be the next morning, opting instead to show up in the Library while the man was on shift, with a small stack of books tucked under his arm, eyes sweeping for whereabout Collins might be. Once he found him, he ambles up with a lift of his chin.]

Afternoon.

Afternoon.

[He responded back out of sheer societal duty. His voice was low and flat and disinterested. He didn't stop what he was doing--arranging books on a shelf--nor glance towards Givens. Hearing the voice was enough to know that he wasn't interested in the person speaking to him.

The books though, the books he handled with care. If Givens stood there long enough he might see Collins finger an engraved spine gently for the texture of it or notice him reading the blurb within the novel's cover if he was interested in the material. Otherwise, his motions were efficient but careful as he moved the pieces of literature around.]

Figured while I was comin' to check in with you, I'd return a few books I'd been meaning to.

[he lifts his chin a little at the stacks.]

I take it you like books?

Check in's at tha front counter. Ya return tha books there ta be properly processed.

[Please, do you know how libraries work, lawman?]

Aye, I do.

Wasn't askin' for directions, but I'll get 'em there. [He wasn't sharp about it or anything, treating the brush off more like 'helpful' direction that he wasn't asking for. Manners had their place.]

This place got anythin' specific that garners your interest?

[Collins snorted, unimpressed, and resisted the urge to roll his eyes like a child.]

Poetry, philosophy. Mystery, thrilling adventure, gothic romance.

Not a bad range. Only one I'm not sure about is gothic romance, but I suppose the genres have evolved over the time between us. I'm more in the Crime Mystery, Sci-Fi kinda stacks. Magic now too, I suppose, but there ain't much of that around.

[His head tilts a little, eyes narrowing fractionally. His was already a 'squinty' kind of face, so it wasn't much more than a subtle tightening.]

How're you feelin'? Got everythin' you need?

[He definitely meant the original meaning behind the term 'gothic romance'. He would be offended by modern society's attempt to fit in their version of it into the genre!]

Edgar Allen Poe, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Mary Shelley. Not sure I want ta know what else ya think I mean. [He paused, considered, then decided he didn't want to point out that he enjoyed true crime testimonies and other crime mystery novels.] Do ya mean science fiction? I do like a good Jules Verne novel. They call his work that now, don't they? 'Science fiction'. Cute term.

[You'll have to forgive him. The term is only a few years old in his time even though some of the earlier works considered that genre are a little older.

He soured a bit at the question.]

Don't go askin' questions ya don't really want tha answer to.

Poe gets 'Romance'? [Gothic sure, but surely gothic Horror. Shelley did Frankenstein (though it was the only piece he knew of hers), and Hawthorne didn't register at all. Sorry Nathaniel.

He shakes his head a little and lifts a shoulder in a faint shrug as he answers the second question.]

Sure, Jules Verne, Science Fiction. No one's come close to 20,000 Leagues under the Sea yet; most everyone's put and kept their eyes on the stars, robotics, dystopias, but he still kicks around in conversation.

And I don't ask questions I don't want the answer to. Kinda defeats the point of askin' 'em if that was the case.

If ya think 'romance' only refers ta star crossed lovers, someone didn't teach ya right.

[And what a pity that was. He considered the rest.]

Hm. Like this ship then.

[He sighed at the end.]

Trust me, ya don't want tha answer.

[Raylan didn't argue that because, quite frankly, Collins was probably right on the first account.]

You say that hopin' that the polite society in me will take the hint and stop pokin' you about it. While I appreciate the effort, you're not gonna talk me into not wantin' an answer.

The point of my questions isn't to dig, it's to determine if there's anythin' I can do to make things easier for you. This place ain't a joy ride down an interstellar highway and regardless of what you think of the institution or the Wardens or the Admiral, I personally don't much care for lettin' people suffer if I can help it.

Well I would feel better with someone to throttle to death.

[He said as he--finally--looked up at Givens with a pointed stare.]

[Raylan was unflinching in the face of the confession and the stare, the unmovable mountain that he was, unbothered by it.]

Unfortunately, best we can offer is an illicit fight club, if it's still runnin', or a rumble with me up on deck. [But the last one wasn't an option because of the restraints on Collins and Raylan's intelligence enough to not remove that one.]

None of which are actually gonna help the situation you're findin' yourself in.

[That reminded him: he still needed to kill Kiryu.

You asked how I was feelin', and that's yer answer. Ya know how many people I killed before this place? Plenty of jobs fer me out there. And I'm stuck here, missin' out on all those opportunities.

Nothin' ya can do about that. Nothin' ya can do ta make me feel better. So quit askin' useless questions.

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