"I don't think air traffic control would like me very much right now, either." Tim's voice was steady, but there was a distinct slur to his vowels he couldn't quite get rid of if he tried. It was a comfortable kind of drunk that left him feeling warm, maybe not quite as guarded as he typically would. Maybe there was a reason he called Raylan instead of anyone else.

The implications of that were not one he cared to think about right now, and easy enough to swish away with other drunken thoughts.

He glanced at the bar behind him. It was in Lexington, tucked away just on the outskirts. Not quite hidden, but out of the way and left alone. The only place that wasn't as far as Louisville to go to for certain proclivities that amounted to a whole lot of male patrons. He could meet Raylan down the street, but he didn't care to walk and he found that actually, he didn't care at all what Raylan knew or thought. He cared a whole lot less about a lot of things when he was this pleasantly drunk.

"Just outside," he assured, and gave Raylan an address.