Works every time, he thinks, rather smugly, suppressing a laugh as he stretches out like a cat and folds both arms behind his head, peering up at the ceiling for a few seconds before letting his eyes flutter closed.

"Wouldn't want you feelin' like I was takin' advantage," he slurs sleepily, even though that is exactly what Doc is doing, guilting him into making him talk. They probably do need the chairs, more so than Neal does anyway. If he does any late night reading, he can do so in bed. It's not good to be drinking in bed, however. And Neal doesn't seem like the late night drinking type.

"Would be a little strange, both of us... clingin' to each other on the floor and... Malcolm strapped to the bed," Doc points out, taking his time with his words, keeping his eyes closed as he talks. Unless of course, that is not the configuration Raylan meant. In which case he can say his suggestion aloud.