"At least part of what I've survived today was better than most other things combined," Ganymede answered, closing one eye to let Raylan brush the stray hair from his face. His was extraordinarily long for anyone, but especially for a man, brushing his waist when it was left loose--that was rare, especially if he'd been at work, and he didn't particularly do well idle. "There's some trouble I'd rather be in myself than subject anyone else to."

He could take it: he'd taken an awful lot in his long life, not that anyone else knew that...but the idea still stood. He reached up slowly, gently tracing his fingertips over the edges of Raylan's lips, eyes dark and depthlessly quiet, but awake and alert.

"If things had gone a different way meaning if I had been shot somewhere else," he supplied. Somewhere fatal. The addendum hung in the air between them unspoken, though they both heard it, Ganymede knew. "I'm sturdier than I seem, Raylan. I promise."