[Poor thing doesn't know how to make friends. Raylan's eyes snap back over to Tom face, wide and dark, blown out with the SUPER weird mix of pain and almost arousal. And a quiet fascination that was underlaid with the too American urge to fight back against 'darkness'.

Raylan was, for better or worse, very much human.]

Messed up part about all this is I- ow, shit[it's exclaimed with a wince, but Raylan just leans his head back a little and hisses out the front half of the remaining words.] I believe you. That might be what he is where you're from and he might be that in his head here, but he still bleeds.

Good for him, I think. Bruise that goddamn ego of his.