Were Doc in Raylan's shoes he would have done things differently with Malcolm. It would have been doing him a kindness. But Doc isn't involved in their affairs and he doesn't actually want to be. He's just getting a whole lot of he said, he said, and it's proving impossible to keep the peace.

He watches Raylan's silhouette perch at the window but he doesn't move to join him. Draping an arm over his knee, he plucks at the creased sheets between his legs and breathes out an inaudible sigh.

"You have a rather nice mouth," Doc starts, as if this is the time and place for that kind of talk. "But I think you might be less vexed if you opened it more often." Not necessarily around Doc, either. It might help somewhat that sitting on the porch nursing moonshine and feelings makes it feel less like pulling teeth. But the porch isn't the only safe place to talk.

"We weren't spinning our wheels. Wyatt and I." This quiet little insignificant-sounding confession probably don't mean much to Raylan. But it's a hundred and thirty years in the making and it's a lot more talking than Doc would ever do. He likely will never bring it up again.

"You and I aren't spinning our wheels either. But I ain't- asking anything of you." That's as much of a declaration that Raylan never asked for that he's gonna get.