"He'll have to cook for us one night then," Raylan suggested with a faint lift of his smile as he cut off another piece and ate it, chasing it down with a swig of his coffee. Raylan didn't realize that it would end up being that night, but that only meant that things worked out more nicely than expected.

"We should. Write 'em down or something. Just in case John Constantine isn't. A note's book for 1306 specifically. I don't doubt that this will happen again. Probably more than a couple of times. Somethin's playin' with us... Wish we had shortwave radios or somethin'. Walky-talkies."