The glass is taken with a faint nod of his head, eyes dancing around the room again before settling back on the sniper, scoffing softly.

"Hey, least my motel room is sand free," he replies good naturedly as he ambles over to sit on the other end of Tim's couch with him. "That's gotta count for somethin'. Barely even have any shootin's too. My room would be the four seasons in Kandahar."

For all that really did for the argument. Raylan wanted to ask if Tim was okay, if there was something weighing on him that drove him to the bottle so hard tonight, but it was openly against their rules to go at something like that so directly. That was generally Art's job.