Raylan's gaze dropped to the hand on his chest, then shot up to Tim's face, eyebrows raised. He'd halted at the touch, but he was very clearly not pleased with Tim's forwardness. It was a challenge. Intentionally pushing Raylan. Or that's how he saw it. Something in there about Tim feeling powerless and needing to assert himself. Raylan didn't feel much in the mood to analyze the hows and whys of it, he just knew it irritated him.

There was another thing that he hadn't told the marshals about. Something major that he'd known from the start. It was one thing to have a vampire's blood in one's system. They were painfully loyal if the vampire willed it so, among other rather irritating aspects. It turned unwitting humans into very useful spies. But what he'd never mentioned before was the ability to compel people, which more or less worked the opposite way. It was far easier for a vampire to work his will on someone he'd fed from.

So he looked Tim dead in the eye. His pupils dilated slightly, red slowly creeping in from the corners of his eyes. Not unlike when he started to lose control when angry or hungry. Then he simply said, "Sit down," and gestured toward a chair. He needed Tim to know how dangerous all of this was. Why freely associating with vampires in such an intimate way had Raylan on edge.