It was colder here than in Kentucky. The kind of persistent cold that made Raylan sleep harder, made him curl more insistently into the bed and threatened him with the day by stealing what bits of lingering body heat they'd stoked together under the blanket. He'd hummed softly in his sleep, in soft protest of Henry leaving, but slipped back under into proper darkness until the sounds and smells of this dream pulled him back up to greet the chill of the morning.

He had to lay there for a few minutes after stretching out, to soak in the fact that he was here at all, that his bed smelled like the gunoil and smoke musk that followed Henry's musk underneath the wafting smell of breakfast. The stupid smile it left on his face stayed as he finally talked himself out of bed and into his jeans, an undershirt and a flannel. He might have accidently grabbed one of Henry's but it didn't much matter.

"Mornin' you," he greeted, voice still rough and deep from sleep as he beelined for the coffee pot, eyeing Henry and breakfast sidelong with that same stupid little smile. "Smells good."