There wasn't a lot of opportunity to see what Tim was like when he was actually and properly drunk, but there was no mistaking the lazy curve of vowels or the way some sounds dragged out a little too long. Not that Raylan thought there was any shame in that - cause and effect. You drink, you get drunk, and then you don't speak so good until you've sobered up. They were all guilty of it, especially those of them that worked in the office.

"Alright, I'm on my way." He didn't give an ETA, even though he knew it was going to be only about fifteen minutes and ten minutes later, Raylan was pulling into the dive bar's parking lot a spot down from Tim's truck. It was a place he hadn't been before, but there wasn't so much as a blink at the few other people that were milling around outside, dangerously close.

Sliding out, Raylan drapes his arm on the roof of the town car, Stetson solidly on his head with that same easy going, crooked pull of his lips that most people were accustomed to seeing on his face.

"Tied one too many on, huh? Just promise me any puking that needs to happen happens outside the car."

Did he think Tim would vomit? Not really, the man held his liquor well but it was a warning that Raylan stuck by. That smell never really comes out.