Once he's alone, Sean crouches next to the motorcycle, running his fingers along it until his hand comes to rest on the seat. He's not sure how long he stays there like that, paying his respects or whatever the hell it is he's doing, but it's a while. Now that he's alone, he's lost a lot of that edginess that's been dogging him, but he's also more aware of things. Maybe he's calmer, but he can also feel the way the bottom of his world is threatening to tip out from under him while he just stands there, waiting to fall.

It's only the cold that drags him back to his feet, a slight shift of his weight alerting him to the way his wet jeans are starting to stiffen. He doesn't want to leave it out there, some strange paranoia making him wonder if it will still be there in the morning or if it will be gone again as surely as if he'd let the ocean take it, but he can't stay out there forever. Slowly, haggardly, he hauls himself up and heads inside.