Tim watches openly and unashamed as Raylan crosses the room, taking in the lovely curve of his ass and the nice set of his shoulders. He could easily get used to this, Raylan walking confidently through his apartment wearing nothing at all. Too easily, maybe. But that doesn't stop him from watching on the walk back either, and goddamn are those hip bones tantalizing. If he were a little younger and a little less drunk, he'd be angling for round two right now.

"I hope so," he answers, with a little bit of a shit-eating grin.

He takes the water first, not realizing how dry his throat is until he's taking a drink. Setting it aside, he goes about cleaning himself up, wiping at his stomach and chest before shifting a little stiffly to clean up Raylan's bodily fluids on him, too. The paper towels are tossed, also accurately, into a nearby trash can before he pushes himself into a somewhat more upright position.

God, yeah. He's gonna be sore as hell tomorrow. Following suit, he finds his boxer briefs and pulls them on, still moving a bit gingerly. Really, he's just doing a bit of stalling of his own. His heart skips uncomfortably in his chest before he speaks again.

"Could try for more of 'em in the mornin'."