He was grateful that Doc sat down, even if it was out of arms reach. He must have scared Doc with the outburst, which only made the weight of guilt worse. But he hadn't decided to sit on the other side of the tunnel, so that was something. Raylan let out a wholly jagged and uneven breath as he lifted his head again to stare at the cigarette between his slightly trembling fingers.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "Can't tell yet." It was either adrenaline or fear or cold and Raylan couldn't pin down which. "If you are, I probably am," he reasoned as he rolled the smoke back up to his lips, shifting to lean on one hip as he pulled the sharpened butter knife out and set it between them, arms returning to their lazy drape over his upbent knees. He doubted there'd be anything else to mark tonight.

"Good news is that it shouldn't get colder than it already is, with us bein' this far down. We're below the frostline."