"What kind of work did you say you did again?" he jokes with Raylan as he sets his coffee mug down. Interesting that he has to qualify it with 'for work'. He doubts anyone sitting at this table would have cared if it wasn't.

Doc folds his arms and rests elbows and forearms on the table, hunching over and tilting his head as he considers. It's like a riddle, something that can be put on and taken off by oneself. He wonders what Malcolm would have used back home but he figures he's got far less problems there with his cornucopia of medication.

Taking something off himself should be fairly easy but putting it on is another matter. If all else fails though, he's definitely dying Malcolm down with an easy enough knot to pull and unravel.

"We could not venture much further than the restaurant and these houses before. I tried when the weather cleared up, spent my third night outside, couldn't get very far. We would've seen that lighthouse much earlier too. No point having one that cannot be seen. Maybe we ain't seen nothing yet." There could be a Grey Bar Motel somewhere not even too far from here. Hell there could even be a... modern place that sells medication? If they're lucky.