Tim certainly wasn't being very disciplined at the moment. Not when Raylan was sitting right by him on his couch and it was the time of night that bad decisions were made, and the alcohol was making him feel warm and loose and like repercussions weren't real.

What was the worst that could happen? It wasn't like either of them were going to say anything to anyone about it. Maybe they'd have to adjust to looking each other in the eye again under the bright fluorescent lights of the marshal's office, but whatever liquor laden trouble they got up to tonight was between them.

Though Raylan's track record with keeping his illicit affairs a secret wasn't that great. Maybe the fact that Tim was very good at hiding his would balance it out.

He's getting a little ahead of himself, but the way Raylan settles back a little bit closer than before doesn't go unnoticed. Tim knocks back what's left in his glass and sets it aside, his gaze never leaving Raylan. The glint in his eye looks like it offers a challenge.

"Not a single one, huh?"

His fingers slide up Raylan's shoulder, still tracing the seam of his jacket. They continue up until they run out of fabric, and he's grazing the skin of Raylan's neck with his fingertips. It feels like sparks and fire.