The next morning Tim was bushy-tailed, if not bright-eyed when he arrived at the safe house around 7 with a variety dozen box of donuts. Clare was yawning in sweats when Rachel opened the door, "She's making coffee. Don't distract her," Rachel warned when he came in, pulling a glazed.
"I've already pressed the button, Rachel," Clare smiled, "It's on its way. Ooh, sprinkles."
Tim quirked an eyebrow and Rachel whispered, "Raylan made the last pot."
"Ah," he nodded. "Tell me you're not shopping in that."
"Do you even know what time it is?" Clare scowled. "Guys..."
"You know nothing's open right now. Don't give her trouble, Izzie's been giving her enough," Rachel smiled, sympathetic to teenaged troubles.
In the kitchen, Clare had poured herself and Rachel cups and was mid-sip when Rachel said, "I'll be in the living room."
"Izzie?" Tim asked.
"My cousin. I'd promised shopping when we saw each other again, but then Brian's car...so," she shrugged, "I'll make it up to her later, but she's 15 and sulking."
"You close?" he asked, helping himself to coffee and the other donut with sprinkles.
"Yeah. Sullivan's aren't easy to put up with, we have a lot to talk about."
He nodded, "Uncle Brian would be tough to take on a daily basis."
She chuckled, sliding up on the counter, "What's our itinerary? Y'know, for after the stores open."
"Shopping plaza on Kings Road, then a 2 pm meeting with Edgar Morley at Brian's office. Then you get to go over reports with Graham."
""Hmm." She sipped her coffee, "Uh, so, how many times did you hassle my uncles after I ran?"
"Why?"
"Izzie knew your name. Apparently has for years... So, do I need to ask again...or are you gonna answer me?"
Tim pursed his lips, boosting himself up next to her, "Couple of times."
"I don't think a 'couple of times' gets you a nickname, sport."
He took it on the offensive, "Why do they say you're just like your mother when they call me that nickname? If it's the nickname I'm thinking of..."
"No. I'm asking you a question. And how many nicknames do you have?"
"I answered your question and you haven't said what the nickname is."
"Unsatisfactorily answered. And you haven't said what nickname you're referring to either. How long were those 'couple of times'?"
"Your dad's a cop and your parents ran away together on your motorcycle...so I figure that's most of what the story is," Tim smirked, still on his own topic.
"Or how loud were those times?" she continued, not taking the bait.
"You asked me to run away with you," he added quietly. "Is that just a Sullivan woman thing?"
She smiled into her coffee, "I never thought you'd actually come with me. And I was right."
"Ask me again sometime. I've had years of Raylan for a bad influence."
"He likes you," she smiled. "He was asking me about my intentions yesterday. It was cute."
"And Paul only thanked me for not shooting you," he said, a little wistfully.
She swatted his shoulder playfully, "You did shoot me!"
"It was a graze! And you gave me a concussion!"
"We were fighting, if you hadn't been such a gentleman about it, you'd have been fine. Big baby!"
"Hindsight is 20/20. Should have hit you and dragged you back my cave, old school."
"Neanderthal. Thought you were supposed to hit me and drag me back to civilization."
"Eventually," he finished his donut, smiling.
She laid her head on his shoulder, "I still wanna know what happened that they call you that?"
"You know why. Cough up the rest of the story, babe."
She giggled, "That will not help me. And I asked first."
"I wasn't there enough to meet Security. Does that tell you enough? Didn't know Q was there until yesterday. I served with him in Afghanistan."
"You exchange the secret handshake?" she asked slyly.
"No, we coin-checked. I owe him a beer."
Clare rolled her eyes.
***

Tony Kender was waking up around that time as well. Making his coffee, checking his voice- and e-mail, only to learn he had a message.

"I'm having a meeting I don't want to have today. You were sloppy enough letting Arlo Givens kill the good friend of our mutual acquaintance. I don't want to hear you've failed in other regards. I want this problem dealt with. Find someone for me."
He looked at his phone. Well, he thought, spend every-day with criminals, it's like lying down with dogs… come back with fleas.

Raylan was passed out on the couch, presumably in preparation for talking to Duffy later, when Tim walked in the living room, while Clare went to dress. "How was last night?"
"Uneventful on our side. Isobel was pretty ticked at Clare for going out today. They had it out a bit and then watched TV, making commentary like Mike and the bots," Rachel said softly. "How was New Orleans?"

Tim smiled, "Pretty."

"That all?"
"What's Raylan said?"
"That he's a shitty chaperone. Which is no surprise to me. She seems nice."

"For leaving me concussed in the woods, you mean?"

"You zoomed in on that girl as soon as her file was in front of you. I heard you talking to Art that day. You get her," Rachel said. "It's a good thing. I think she gets you, too."

"I was expecting her to be upset about the car bomb yesterday. She was just…"

"Just what? Her face said 'concern' to me."

"I guess I'm used to hearing about Winona give Raylan crap. That's not how she was. She wanted me to be the one to tell her I was all right, but I didn't have to explain that this was what I do," Tim looked into his mug. "I was all prepared for the explaining."

Rachel smiled. "I'm jealous. But it's pretty new. You may still have to explain someday. But her dad was a LEO, too, right?"
"Yeah."

"And she's got brothers who've served?"

"Yes, Rachel, I get that she's familiar with the role. I just…"

"Wanted her to beg you to change and become an accountant so she didn't have to worry anymore? And you could feel like you're in some quasi-normal TV relationship?"

"Geez, Rach, speak your mind."

"She was a fugitive, she's now a protectee, and you have stupidly decided to start a relationship with her now. Normal doesn't apply.

"If you subscribe to that 'you don't really know someone until they're on the edge of a volcano' thing. This is your woman, deal with it. If you subscribe to the 'you spend every day with someone, you get to know them,' thing, my advice is the same."

"I know, deal with it. And I will. I was just so grateful for it last night…"

"And now you're suspicious?"

"More wondering how long the good fortune will last," he finished his coffee and offered to take her cup in, "does make good coffee though."

"I know, right? Don't screw this up."

Wynn Duffy was not a morning person. He was not the sort to take being woken up well either, especially not by some dick-head Tramble guard that let Sam Porter get shanked by an old man, no matter how crazy the old man's son was. So, it was easy to say Wynn was not at his personal best when his bodyguard, Mike, came into say, "Kender's at the door. Seems pretty shaken up. You wanna talk to him?"

"No, Mike, I want to go back to being the sandwich filling between Maria Kirilenko and Tatania Golovin. Asshole. Send him in. I'll be out in a sec," he threw back his blankets and lamented ever taking Edgar Moss's phone call. He dressed slowly, even forgoing a tie, just to make Kender nervous. He pondered shaving and opted not to, he missed the 'stasche.

Coming out to talk to Kender finally, Wynn said enthusiastically, "Mr. Kender, to what do I owe the pleasure of you waking me up out of the best dream I've had this week? Is it an apology over your neglect of our friend Sam's safety?"

"Our mutual friend called me early this morning. About that Lidet woman coming back. He complained about what happened yesterday not working, too." Kender put his hands up to prevent Wynn from speaking as his expression changed, "Now, I don't know what happened yesterday. I just know he's asked me for names. People,"Kender took a shuddering breath. "What do you want me to do, Mr. Duffy?"

Wynn smiled, "Why, by all means, you give him those names. You do everything that man asks, Mr. Kender, and you tell me all about it. All of it. He's meeting with the Lidet woman today, where? Who's protecting her? What happened with the car yesterday? Get me details, Mr. Kender. That is the point of you."

Kender nodded, knowing better than to ask what would happen if he didn't get those details. He was a prison guard, he'd heard about Duffy for a long time, just not soon enough. "Understood. Sorry to wake you." He rose to leave.

"Did I say you could go yet? I still want to know what I asked you before. Why did Arlo Givens kill Sam?" Wynn demanded. "We work on a quid-pro-quo system here, Tony. You give me something, and I don't detail your face with a ball-peen hammer. I want these questions answered. You're falling off the ball here."

"I found out Givens' had a visit from his son that day, before he killed Sam. I haven't been able to see an footage of it though," Kender offered as a parting gift.

Wynn smiled, "See, now that's the point of you. Have a nice day, Mr. Kender."

After Kender had left, Wynn pulled Mike in and said, "Get someone to see if the Marshals are protecting Sullivan and Lidet. I want to know if I should expect a visit from Deputy Givens."

Press the button...Press the button...