The sky was blue, water made things wet, coffee was better black, and Raylan Givens was up at ungodly hours of the night. It was a wholesale refusal (or inability) to keep to sane hours. He preferred to drink alone just as often as he did at a bar, but tonight was a night in as he poured over some casefiles. Bars were for when he wanted to forget. 'Home', as much as the motel room could be one, was for work.

"Tim."

Caller ID was a marvelous thing. Tim normally didn't call him at night, unless they were out after someone. He wasn't aware of anything that they were doing that would call for that. So while his tone was the same easy going and largely unflappable, some flags were up.

"What's up?" He was fully expecting to hear some nonplussed grisly detail of something Raylan must have forgotten. It didn't matter that he'd been nursing some Jim Beam for nearly two hours, he was well under his limit to drive, so he could work if needed.