Scratch is about to laugh. Raylan's not the first guy to take offence to him and point a gun at him. He might not even be the last, all things considered, and while Scratch is glad that someone finally has a pair of balls on them, come on. A gun? When has a gun ever done shit to him?

But he doesn't laugh. Instead, he scrunches up his face for a moment and looks down, watching the snow beneath his feet start to slowly turn red with blood. His blood.

Of fucking course he can get shot here. Of course.

He sucks in a slow, deep breath through his nose, his jaw clenching.

"You might intimidate other people, but all I see is a coward in a nice hat. I bet you feel pretty good about yourself right now, though, don't you?"

Also, getting shot hurts like a son of a bitch.