"Course it cannae be so easy," Sean mutters, not sure how intelligible it comes out and not particularly caring. He just wants to put this whole matter to bed and get on with his arsehole grieving in comparative peace, is that so much to ask for?

Bending over, palms pressed firmly against his eyes, he sighs. "Ye c'n stay here 'til it passes, s'long as ye keep ta yerself." Of course, if she'd done that in the first place, this wouldn't be an issue now, but voicing that particular complaint seems pointless.