"Not if I kill you first. Don't want you living with it." If that isn't worth loving and mourning him over for, then surely nothing else would be. Maybe this is how cowboys flirt. Sitting in the dark with their fingertips in the dirt not knowing that they are so close they are a hair's width away from practically holding hands, promising to put each other down while they still think themselves as good men.

Doc's hat will make its way mysteriously into Raylan's lap. He still smells like Malcolm's nice shampoo, despite the cigarettes' best efforts to get into all his clothes and weave into his hair.

"It's about as barren as the sky was when we first got here," Doc comments when he tips his head back and gazes upon the roof of the tunnel, bumping his head lightly against Raylan's. He lets his head roll to the side until his temple and forehead grazes against the wall. Not even a faint stream of light from the buildings above them between the cracks in the floorboards or nothing.

"Used to be I always knew where I was going. We'd lie on the side of a dirt road and Wyatt made sure I knew every single star in the sky. Didn't need no angry Siri lady recalculatin' and hollerin' all the time. I 'on't know where all the stars went anymore. Hell I 'on't know anything anymore."