"My soul is unwilling but my toes might agree with you," Doc jokes. He doesn't think he has much of a soul left anymore, but that's another topic of misery for another miserable day.

Standing mostly upright out of sheer stubbornness, he reaches over to get the door, holding it open long enough for Raylan to get inside. A heavy hand claps against his back on his way in and Doc follows soon after, letting the porch door swing closed behind them. Thought of conquering the stairs is a little daunting right now but with a few laughs and clumsy bruises on their way to the promise of a dreamless sleep in a soft, warm bed, they can probably manage the feat between the two of them coordinating their efforts leaning against each other on their way up.

But first. They have a drink to finish in the dark.