Raylan was sure this would all look comical to someone - three men, just on the edge of being ill fitted on the couch, not doing so great and all looking a little bit like they'd just come back from war. But it somehow felt just right for such a morning. He tried to not pay attention to the return of a warm weight next to him or the tension that just broke, focusing on the conversation at hand instead, like it was a raft for his attention.

"You can take Neal, I'll take Negan and Malcolm can check on the lanterns, but the brewery can wait. Least until after breakfast. If the house is still there, it's probably fine. Shit," he said as he propped his elbow on his knee and rubbed at the bridge of his nose and the impending headache. "It probably needed the chance to age. Let's get one house in order at a time."

But there was a sense of urgency around confirming who else was in the house and one that wouldn't let Raylan stay comfortably where he was, sending the Marshal pushing to his feet with a heavy breath. "Then some coffee."