Raylan shifted and gestured. "Scoot over," he said, turning to lay down onto his side to face Malcolm, head propped up on his hand. It was impulse, pure and simple, but it put him on Malcolm's level. Equally valuable, in its own way.

"The nightmare or while we were all gone?"

He could almost hear John Constantine mocking him now. Next you'll be curlin' his hair and paintin' your nails. He pushed that sound from his head, best he could, focusing instead on Malcolm's answer instead of the churn in his chest.