Doc is not very familiar with this term 'redneck' and all its connotations. 'Cracker' was more common during his time. Raylan's neck only turns red after 2 bottles of moonshine but nonetheless he is happy that Raylan has found something of a project for himself and Malcolm has been tasked with assisting, imbuing him with a sense of importance that he was in short supply of as the garage stirs back to life again after what must have been a long time of disuse.

It is no Noah's ark, but a bridge to greater understanding is no less important than a means of escape. Doc has been of the opinion that they should try to parlay with their new corporeal and not-so-corporeal friends, not antagonise them by throwing things across the chasm or trying to pry the lanterns away from the spirits. Maybe if he had his six shooters he might say something different, but they have a small community here of men, women, some barely older than children. It is not in their best interests to be antagonising anyone.

Mostly he has kept out of their hair. The moonshine needs to be monitored. The willow bark does not replenish itself. He has tended to a few injuries over the last couple of days. Looked for more missing persons. He happens to be in the house that cold afternoon, and he makes himself useful bringing hot drinks to the garage.

"Coffee and tea, gentlemen? Before you walk the plank?" he teases.