It's open. Roman's penthouse-turned-small-cabin is still pretty pristine and surprisingly neat despite the fact that he doesn't have anything even remotely resembling a maid.

Roman, however, is anything but clean and tidy: his hair is skewed, flopping half in his face. He's not wearing a shirt because he's using the garment as a makeshift towel, holding it to his nose. A rather large amount of blood has soaked through, but Roman, keeping his head tilted up--this isn't his first rodeo--shoots a warning look in Raylan's direction.