There was a big hole in the roof of the museum, too. It had seemed partially collapsed in. Doc had been particularly mesmerised by the snow dancing in the light. It's likely that whatever was floating around in the museum would have escaped and spread throughout town already. The only reason Doc hasn't said too much about it is because he didn't want to send everyone panicking.

"Keep it." He hands the knife off. It doesn't do much for helping him to feel safer. He can always pick up another one and file it down if he ever gets out of this place.

"I've been telling everyone - even our multi-talented Mister Caffrey, just last night - that I'd rather Malcolm and the young ladies in town be taken care of than anyone come looking for me. Didn't think I'd be taking you with," Doc muses, clearing his throat so it doesn't sound like his voice is cracking under the strain of his fear of small, dark spaces.

"You ever been trapped in a mine? If we can talk about it." He will respect that Raylan might not want to.