[ For a minute there he thought he was out of options. But he's not a total asshole (contrary to apparently popular belief) so before he makes his way to the food court, Raylan decides to brave a clothing store. It's unpleasant as all get-out in here so he makes quick work of it, beelining for the menswear. Near the registers there's that usual display of masculine tat, the kind of stuff that'd be called stocking fillers around Christmas: coin trays, wallets, pocket-sized camping supplies (those are thin on the ground, presumably largely ransacked a long time ago), novelty keyrings — and, exactly what he was looking for, a fancy handkerchief packaged neatly in a box and embroidered in one corner with some fancy art of a sturgeon snared on a hook. It looks, surprisingly, completely untouched. He pockets it, adjusts his hat, and heads out for the food court. ]
no subject
[ For a minute there he thought he was out of options. But he's not a total asshole (contrary to apparently popular belief) so before he makes his way to the food court, Raylan decides to brave a clothing store. It's unpleasant as all get-out in here so he makes quick work of it, beelining for the menswear. Near the registers there's that usual display of masculine tat, the kind of stuff that'd be called stocking fillers around Christmas: coin trays, wallets, pocket-sized camping supplies (those are thin on the ground, presumably largely ransacked a long time ago), novelty keyrings — and, exactly what he was looking for, a fancy handkerchief packaged neatly in a box and embroidered in one corner with some fancy art of a sturgeon snared on a hook. It looks, surprisingly, completely untouched. He pockets it, adjusts his hat, and heads out for the food court. ]
Who am I looking for?
I'm the one in the hat