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Indie Raymond "Red" Reddington from NBC's Blacklist. Private. Selective. Mun/Muse 21+. Dark Themes present. Please read rules/bio before following/interacting. Written by Erick

ecclesiastus:

         ❝ —  Then maybe you should stick to drinkin’
                  your PEATY pisswater. ❞

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The bottle is slung back on the seat next to him, before he narrows his eyes, leanin’ in dangerously close, lettin’ that Custer TEMPER get the better of him as he growls out his threats. That ain’t him no more, especially not for some big man STRANGER. 

         ❝ —  Go back. Go back to where you came from
                  an’ leave me alone. I ain’t part of that life no
                  more. I ain’t harbourin’ SHIT. But if you decide
                  not to leave … Well, then I have a nice bolt
                  action rifle an’ a few bullets that I’m sure won’t
                  mind makin’ your ACQUAINTANCE. ❞ 

He’s already startin’ the engine, listenin’ to it SPUTTER as it turns over. Really thought he’d managed to leave all that behind, but it was inevitable that someone was gonna come huntin’ for him eventually. Didn’t mean he ain’t prepared

He managed a polite smile, “Oh, come now, Father, I wasn’t insulting your whiskey, there’s no need to insult mine.” Whiskey always had a certain flavor, and whatever was in Jesse’s bottle was stronger than even most cask strength whiskeys he’d had before. After Red had taken the second sip, which reacted to as though it was water, he hoped that the assumed slight was understood as being off-guard. Even Red could be caught honestly off-guard. 

Ooh, the temper, how cute. Granted, he’d heard if the priest said just the right thing in just the right way, even a man as strong as Reddington may not be able to resist…but Red knew he was no normal person.  In truth, a small, sick part of him wanted to see it at work, this Genesis. “I’m afraid you won’t have time to grab the shotgun, there’s already a .358 pointed at you just beneath this ᴡɪɴᴅᴏᴡ.” He wouldn’t show his whole hand just yet, and neither would Jesse. Should the powers need to collide, they would, indeed, do so. 

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“Now, then! I’m not going anywhere unless you clear me a seat in your wonderful clunker of a classic pickup truck, and take me to the local diner so that we might have a formal ᴄʜᴀᴛ.” Red’s smile fell now, and the air around him seemed darker somehow. A mere tactic to attempt to induce the chilling of the Father’s spine. “I’d love to try some chicken fried steak, I hear it’s wonderful.”