She pales at the hard words, the tendons standing out in her neck for a moment before she narrows her eyes at him once again, her lips thinning. "You really think Black Badge gives a shit about the fight? About anyone? About you?"
She can't help it; the memories come unbidden. Dolls, smiling at her from the hillside above the Homestead. Dolls, curled at her back in her bed, promising she isn't alone. Dolls, lying still and cold on the frozen earth. "Demons didn't kill Dolls. Black Badge did. And they'll kill you, too, if they fucking feel like it."
The worst part of this all is that— he's right. And Dolls might have said the same thing, once upon a time, before he looked at her at that party, something soft and undefinable in his eyes, and said screw 'em, I need you. She misses him like she'd miss her ribs, or her lungs. Everything feels wrong, everything hurts, everything is so much harder without him.
Which is why this new Marshal, Givens, isn't wrong. She can't do this alone. She can't do it without Black Badge. She already knows that when she turns around again, he'll be coming right along with her to the office. All she can think is that it's a damn good thing Nicole buried Dolls' mug with him; she couldn't stand to see someone else drinking out of it.
The misery isn't outweighing the anger in her voice, but it's there, swelling behind every word, filling her eyes and flushing in her cheeks. "Did you even know him? Do you have the foggiest fucking idea of whose boots you're trying to fill?"
Some questions didn't need answers. There was nothing to gain from rising to the bait, to telling her why it didn't matter if Black Badge gave a damn or not. No answer he could give would really answer he thought she had. Why didn't they care about Dolls? Why didn't someone, anyone? She was looking for and had, apparently found who she wanted to place that blame with.
But so long as she allowed for any delineation between him as a man and the badge he wore, Raylan was confident he could find a way around those ugly truths of her life, towards something that served their goal more definitively. Her grief was good, in its own way - she'd fight like hell because of it.
His dark eyes stay steady on hers and lets the words ring around them for a long moment before he answers, calm and sure and back to that reassuring tone.
"No. Cause I know the file I got ain't a fraction of the man it belongs to. Maybe that's somethin' else you can help me fix when we got some down time. But I got a lead on a lost little girl with a whole bunch of dead cows across the families land and I could use your knowledge of the area. Of it's problems, hot spots, people that ain't from around here."
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no subject
She can't help it; the memories come unbidden. Dolls, smiling at her from the hillside above the Homestead. Dolls, curled at her back in her bed, promising she isn't alone. Dolls, lying still and cold on the frozen earth. "Demons didn't kill Dolls. Black Badge did. And they'll kill you, too, if they fucking feel like it."
The worst part of this all is that— he's right. And Dolls might have said the same thing, once upon a time, before he looked at her at that party, something soft and undefinable in his eyes, and said screw 'em, I need you. She misses him like she'd miss her ribs, or her lungs. Everything feels wrong, everything hurts, everything is so much harder without him.
Which is why this new Marshal, Givens, isn't wrong. She can't do this alone. She can't do it without Black Badge. She already knows that when she turns around again, he'll be coming right along with her to the office. All she can think is that it's a damn good thing Nicole buried Dolls' mug with him; she couldn't stand to see someone else drinking out of it.
The misery isn't outweighing the anger in her voice, but it's there, swelling behind every word, filling her eyes and flushing in her cheeks. "Did you even know him? Do you have the foggiest fucking idea of whose boots you're trying to fill?"
no subject
But so long as she allowed for any delineation between him as a man and the badge he wore, Raylan was confident he could find a way around those ugly truths of her life, towards something that served their goal more definitively. Her grief was good, in its own way - she'd fight like hell because of it.
His dark eyes stay steady on hers and lets the words ring around them for a long moment before he answers, calm and sure and back to that reassuring tone.
"No. Cause I know the file I got ain't a fraction of the man it belongs to. Maybe that's somethin' else you can help me fix when we got some down time. But I got a lead on a lost little girl with a whole bunch of dead cows across the families land and I could use your knowledge of the area. Of it's problems, hot spots, people that ain't from around here."