"I'm a hell of a lot older than you, so. There should be no 'old man talk' coming from you," Doc chides. But no, you might be able to teach these couple of old dogs some new tricks. They might learn them well enough, or at least adapt. But they'll always go back to playing with their favourite toys, visiting their favourite watering hole, sleeping in the same spot, and eating the same damn puppy chow they liked when they were a fraction of the age they are now.

"Stories are all I have, but. I don't think I can live that life anymore. Not without- getting arrested and drawing all sorts of wrong attention from the government." Maybe Wyatt had the right idea, settling down and living out the rest of your life in peace. Doc has the time now to be doing that. Even if Purgatory is the sort of town where nothing is ever quiet and still for very long. Trouble will come looking, even if he were to hang up his boots.

"We uh... it's uh... complicated." Doc sighs, scratching the bridge of his nose. "There's a shady as shit government organisation in our town. She's working with them. Back in the day Wyatt Earp went after the wrong sheriff. I was hoping I'd paid for that, in full, but she's... still cleaning up his mess. At least she's getting paid for it, I suppose, but. I don't trust them. At least with the marshal service, you know what you're gettin'. Them rules are simpler. Or they were, I should say." He eyes Raylan up and down and cracks him a lopsided smirk.

"Not that I am in any way implying you're the type to play by those rules. You've got trouble written all over your face."