A that sucks wouldn't have gone totally amiss, because it wasn't like it was untrue. He and Maggie might not have been romantically involved for a large part of their marriage, but there had been enough good years for Scott to mourn them. Moving Paxton in meant that there was no chance to return to what he largely considered to be golden years, when things might not have been perfect, but he was happy. As happy as a reformed murderer could be, in a marriage of convenience and with a child destined for the chopping block, anyway. But with Maggie moving on, that door had closed. Officially. And that did, in fact, suck.
Worse, still, was that he couldn't hold it against her. He'd left her alone in Twelve, with little to no news of her only child, for six years now. Honestly, he was shocked that it had taken her this long to find someone better for her.
In lieu of stating the obvious, however, Bucky's joke was just as good. Even better, maybe, because it caught Scott by surprise. He let out an earnest laugh, half choking on his last bite of crepe, and turned away to cough it out into his napkin. "That'll keep me warm at night, thanks," he wheezed, his smile sticking to the corners of his mouth, when he'd mostly recovered from the lack of air. A sip of water helped wash down the remnants of his meal.
"He's not a bad guy," Scott continued, wiping his mouth on his wrist and setting the balled-up napkin on his empty plate. "He hates me, but I'm pretty sure it's because he loves her. I can't fault him for that." Well, he could, but he wouldn't have liked himself very much for it. "At least she's happy."