He covers the back of Raylan's hand with his own for a touch too long before moving his arm aside gently, complying wordlessly. Just once he would like to be as careless and irresponsible as he had been in his youth. But he doesn't think he can let himself get that way anymore. Once one leg slides off the couch, the other follows suit shortly, and then Doc is sitting up, hunched over with the base of his thumbs pressed against his eye sockets. He didn't have anything to get drunk with in the house he ended up, but he has been dead tired and it's a struggle trying to shake the sleep off.

"You can stay," Doc offers as he slowly moves to his feet. He reaches over for the throw that's draped over the armrest and drags it over to cover Raylan up, from feet to chest.

The cold is helping to keep him awake, though his movements are still a little sluggish as he ambles over towards the fireplace and tugs on his pants up at the knees to crouch down, inspecting what's left of it, the cogs in his head grinding slowly towards get it going again.