By the time Malcolm came out of the shower, Raylan was already stretched out on his couch, only visible by the hand cast over the arm, but he'd been keeping an ear on the noises the man made through his shower and bedtime habits and mentally followed him through the apartment to the bed beyond.

"You know me and my 3 am scotches," he drawled roughly with a smirk. "G'night Malcolm."

He had internal bets as to how many hours of sleep he'd get tonight with full intentions of moving to Malcolm's bed floorside if he had to.