"They will be the death of us all," Doc grumbles with a sigh, rubbing his face tiredly. At least Number Five had been willing to reach out for help, and had been willing to accept help on the occasion he did not reach out, even if he might have done it kicking and screaming. Doc will help him, and Klaus. He cannot say the same for John Constantine, at this particular juncture.

No, he would much rather talk about Malcolm and Raylan's current predicament. It amuses him so, and he is unable to hide the way the topic brings a little twinkle to his eye.

"I must say Raylan, you are a lot more dense when it comes to these matters than you appear," Doc teases gently. "I loved Wyatt. We were not 'gay'. It would be too easy if all Malcolm desires is sex. Sex is a transaction, an exchange that can be performed and enjoyed freely that anyone can walk away from satisfied at the end of a good night. No, what he wants is... to be cared about, not cared for." Doc understands this difference intimately, this need for validation, to shake off the shackles of constantly feeling like a burden, to want someone to see you and love you for the man you are, not the sum of your ever-increasing list of flaws. Not the pity or the concern. Never those.

"No one can choose what the heart wants. If you are to be letting him down I hope you would do so gently."