The touch was like a jolt of electricity through Raylan's veins, the best and worst of himself warring with each other as he gauges Tim. Those lazy half lidded eyes that struck Raylan the same way all blue eyes did, the equally lazy confidence that Tim carried on him like easy armor. They were alike in a lotta ways. Except Tim wore himself more easily than Raylan did, in reality. Yeah, Raylan put on a good show but Gutterson was more.. disciplined.

Must be all that training.

He was about to do something stupid, he could feel it. And yet, he couldn't stop it. He shifts again, taking one last drink of his whiskey before setting it on the coffee table and turning a little as he settles back, closer than he was before.

"Most people find themselves okay with what I've done, once it's all said and done. Only had a few complaints anyway."

Would Tim freak out? Hit him? Shove him away, kick him out and then ignore him at work for the terrible assumption. The more he thought about it, the more the whiskey loudly proclaimed that it didn't matter.

"'Sides, I don't find myself needin' it either way. Helps if I don't regret my actions."