He catches Raylan's reflection in the window as the man approaches, and for a second, he thinks: yeah, that's another hallucination. But then he speaks, and Jeff looks over his shoulder, half-expecting there to be nothing and nobody, except that's not the case at all.

He turns fully, eyes widening as he tries to process just what he's looking at. That's his face, right down to the moles, and that's his voice, but that's not him. He doesn't carry himself that way, he doesn't have that kind of accent, and while the flannel and jeans are... honestly about the same as Jeff's, he sure as hell doesn't walk around in a cowboy hat and boots.

It's like somebody took him and put him through some cool Western filter.

"Oh what the fucking fuck are-- fuck!" If Raylan's ever wondered what he'd sound like all shrill and frantic, Jeff's got him covered.

"I'm sorry, I'm really trying to find another word to express what I'm feeling right now and I just-- fuck! What the fuck is going on?!"