neverleftharlan | (no subject)

It had been a while since Raylan had gone far from Lexington for an assignment, the last time being his trip to California, he was fairly sure. Chicago was not his comfort zone, though the stigma of a southern accent did allow for most people to underestimate him. Just another Dixieland moron out of his league in the big city.

He stuck a leg out as his soon-to-be-informant staggered out of a bar apparently owned by a local mafia thug, Marcone, and the man - more of a boy in Raylan's opinion - crashed headlong to the ground and threw up on his way there.

Raylan grimaced. "Now, that just figures. Folks like you never can tell when they've had too much, and can't hold it even if they do."

He kicked the kid, lightly, to make sure he was conscious. The boy groaned and rolled over to show a recently broken nose and chunks of something Raylan didn't want to spend time identifying smeared over his face. Early twenties if that, with ragged brown hair that needed washing and scars from a teenage life of zits and fistfights, if Raylan was any judge.

"Evening," he said, and touched the brim of his hat. The kid stared at him. Raylan waited, then said, "This is where you say hello."

The kid tried to spit at him and Raylan brought the heel of his boot down between the boy's legs. The boy doubled up and rolled back onto his side with a squeaky wheeze.

"I do believe we'll try that again. Good evenin'. I'm Deputy US Marshal Raylan Givens, and I would like to ask you a few questions."

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Harry recoils a step or two as the car starts smoking, points his staff toward the car and murmurs, "Ventas servitas." A breeze kicks up - not strong, by Harry's standards, but enough to disperse any smoke that made it out of the car before Givens slammed it shut. Whatever that is, they probably don't want to be breathing any more of it than they have to.

"Do me a favor and check the Beetle," he asks Mouse quietly. The dog snorts and trots down the street to do just that, while Harry closes the distance to the other two, tense and still half-expecting something to explode the second he relaxes.

"We shouldn't hang around here. Any of us." People know they can find Harry here - after all, that's how Givens tracked him here. Obviously someone wants Givens here, or they wouldn't have bothered luring him up here from Kentucky... and now Harry and Givens are in the same place, just standing on the street next to a smoking car. Harry can think of worse ideas than just staying here and waiting to see what happens, but not many.

Mouse barks once, and wags his tail when Harry glances over. His car's fine. Harry turns back to Raylan and Lia. "Want a ride?"

Their first stop is a hotel, where Raylan turns Lia loose and makes her promise to stay put - after promising her whatever she wants from the room service menu.

He drops back into the Blue Beetle beside Harry, scowling at Lia through the hotel's glass doors until the elevator slides closed on her smug expression. "I'm going to regret that. Girl eats more than a passel of hogs in a summer garden."

Raylan consults the list, glancing at Harry as he does. "That's hick-speak for a lot. Where do we start, here. The kid who pointed me your way says Marcone has a fancy club downtown - sounds like the kind of place they make you sit around waiting for hours to prove they're not impressed by a badge. Any of these others easier to get to?"