At least Tim had a decent excuse for his self-destruction. Two tours in Afghanistan, eight years of combat and back-to-back assassinations, were not easy things to deal with once he got back stateside. It left him only feeling comfortable when he felt like he was at war, which the marshals service provided for him quite nicely, most days.
But sometimes there was too big of a stretch of downtime at work, too many days in a row where all they did was desk work, and that made Tim restless. And restlessness led to self destructive behavior. It was a vicious cycle, but so long as he remained functioning and able to do his job, it wasn't really a problem.
He was fine. He was handling it. Which meant he also didn't need to talk about it.
Tim laid back on the bed, shifting uncomfortably. He'd probably call in sick tomorrow. Not something he did often but something he needed to do this time. Let himself sleep for the day.
"We gonna start havin' heart-to-hearts now, Raylan?" Tim asked, and he shifted his gaze to look at the other man, brows arched. "Because I think that requires you to not be a dick."
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But sometimes there was too big of a stretch of downtime at work, too many days in a row where all they did was desk work, and that made Tim restless. And restlessness led to self destructive behavior. It was a vicious cycle, but so long as he remained functioning and able to do his job, it wasn't really a problem.
He was fine. He was handling it. Which meant he also didn't need to talk about it.
Tim laid back on the bed, shifting uncomfortably. He'd probably call in sick tomorrow. Not something he did often but something he needed to do this time. Let himself sleep for the day.
"We gonna start havin' heart-to-hearts now, Raylan?" Tim asked, and he shifted his gaze to look at the other man, brows arched. "Because I think that requires you to not be a dick."