"Only if it's not too much trouble," he jokes back light-heartedly. Raylan doesn't have to worry about Doc misbehaving or not keeping his hands above board. If there's been any funny business it's purely accidental, after two too many bottles late at night.

"Wouldn't mind some coffee with my shine. Thanks." Doc hovers around the other side of the kitchen counter. Not once has the speed and veracity of their alcohol consumption come up in conversation beyond the occasional quip about how they aren't brewing a big enough batch to age at least some of it to palatable levels, and Doc is thankful for it. He isn't sure how he is supposed to get through life without self-medicating.

"You're not planning on heading out again, are you? Malcolm's already bouncing off the walls." And it's not that Doc minds sitting with him for a day, but he's worried about Raylan going out in the storm too, even if he's saying Malcolm's the one fretting.