Ganymede knew exactly how well the prospect of talking about the shooting was likely to go, but he was implacable in the face of that falling smile. He twisted their hands, fingers slotting in between each other as Ganymede's thumb trailed gently over Raylan's knuckles. Each ridge and valley of bone and skin was familiar, and the motion soothed him gently, providing more comfort than any of the efforts the EMTs had gone to.

"You know I can behave if I have incentives," he murmured, teasing just a little. They'd teased around the concept before, once or twice; he trusted Raylan to remember. Though at the following questions Ganymede merely shook his head. "One of the girls--one of the new hires, I don't know her very well. She'd been tangled up with some boy, a real idiot by the looks of him, and apparently it ended badly. I didn't know how badly, but she requested a shift change, presumably to get away from him. His friends took issue with that, it appears."

He sighed it out, pushing his free hand over his hair away from his face. "I hope you can understand why I wasn't going to hand anyone else into that."