Raylan presents Mouse with his knuckles to sniff, fully aware that this monster could and would take his arm off if Dresden gave the word. "He's part horse," Raylan says. He glances over at Lia and sighs. "Georgiann. I suppose I'm too good-hearted, picking up a hitcher, but being nagged at to get her a meal has surely cured me of that."
He leans back in his chair, hat still set back slightly on his head and a musing look on his face. "I had a dog once. Not near this size, of course, a mutt if you ever saw one, rangy thing and not the best looking. He was a good dog, though. Easy to train, protective, went with me everywhere. I suppose Mr. Mouse goes with you everywhere, being a service dog and all - how do you manage travel? Airplanes and such?"
Raylan pushes back in his chair, lifting the front legs off the ground for a moment before he thumps back down and continues. "Anyway, me and my dog, we went everywhere together, folks knew who was coming the minute they saw that ragged mutt turn the corner. And then one year, we went on up to the picket lines, during a strike against I think Lannaster Coal? We went up to the picket lines, early in the day, watch the scabs come on through, herded by the company's gun thugs. They went down in the mines and got to work."
He smiles at Mac as the man brings over two bottles of ale and leaves again. Raylan takes a sip and whistles. "Damn. Well, about half-way through the morning, they got their powder man working, blowing things up, and my dog - well, the shaking and the rumbling started and he lit out faster than I could catch him. Never saw him again. Is that why you left Mouse here went you went and blew up that block in Lexington?" The question is mild, punctuated by Raylan taking another drink from his bottle. "Bit surprising, considering your anxiety."
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He leans back in his chair, hat still set back slightly on his head and a musing look on his face. "I had a dog once. Not near this size, of course, a mutt if you ever saw one, rangy thing and not the best looking. He was a good dog, though. Easy to train, protective, went with me everywhere. I suppose Mr. Mouse goes with you everywhere, being a service dog and all - how do you manage travel? Airplanes and such?"
Raylan pushes back in his chair, lifting the front legs off the ground for a moment before he thumps back down and continues. "Anyway, me and my dog, we went everywhere together, folks knew who was coming the minute they saw that ragged mutt turn the corner. And then one year, we went on up to the picket lines, during a strike against I think Lannaster Coal? We went up to the picket lines, early in the day, watch the scabs come on through, herded by the company's gun thugs. They went down in the mines and got to work."
He smiles at Mac as the man brings over two bottles of ale and leaves again. Raylan takes a sip and whistles. "Damn. Well, about half-way through the morning, they got their powder man working, blowing things up, and my dog - well, the shaking and the rumbling started and he lit out faster than I could catch him. Never saw him again. Is that why you left Mouse here went you went and blew up that block in Lexington?" The question is mild, punctuated by Raylan taking another drink from his bottle. "Bit surprising, considering your anxiety."