"I doubt that," Raylan huffed with a little shake of his downturned face, fork poking at the last of the egg before cutting another piece to stab into the last bit of sausage which he took down with a passing glance at John under the brim of his hat at the question.

Well, he certainly didn't want his juice taken away.

Once his mouth was clear, (and he'd taken another, almost defiant, drink of said juice), Raylan cleared his throat and sat back in his seat, holding John with a different sort of curious gaze.

"You made a dissatisfied noise when I mentioned Doc. Somethin' happen between you two?" Because John Constantine did not do little fights or little opinions.