Raylan chuckles as he finishes, popping the clear glass lid on the pot. Once he wiped his hands, he found himself with an adorable growth and squeezed a hand around her shoulder before draping it there.

"Just long enough for a TV movie and a bowl of cereal to tide you over until then." Or to tide him over, to be honest. "Only place where timin' matters is the pre-heatin' time for the oil and how long they cook. Can't be eatin' raw chicken. C'mon," he says, turning her and tugging her towards the living room. "Let's find somethin' to watch on this shitty tv. I could use the noise and the meat needs the time to brine. From 2 hours to 24, if you can manage it. 24's better, really. Gets into all the fibers. It's science, really."