Almost every aspect of this situation is foreign to Tim. They're at his place, spending the night together, about to fall asleep all tangled up. It's so far removed from the string of one night stands with no last names that he subscribes to. The one thing that is familiar about it is Raylan, and that creates a sense of security that he's not used to outside of them kicking down doors together. But it's enough for Tim to lean into what he wants instead of shy away from it.

The alcohol also helps. Kind of a problematic amount, but that's just more of that baggage.

"I know, it's usually a pain in my ass."

And now he can mean that figuratively and literally. He smirks into the kiss, giving Raylan's hair a light tug before moving to lead the way. His stomach does something stupid and fluttery at being called darlin', but it's studiously ignored. He points out the bathroom as they pass it, and kicks the flannel he'd thrown into the doorway toward a laundry basket.

The bedroom is much like the living room in that there's not much in the way of personal belongings. A dresser with a TV across from the bed, which is impeccably made with neat creases and lined folds. There's another framed photo of the same older blonde woman on one of the bedside tables, and next to it a very battered copy of The Wizard of Oz.

The light switch is ignored, but he turns on the lamp beside the bed as he starts to pull back the bed sheets, moving a bit stiffly each time he has to bend at the waist.