It seemed to take a millennium for Scruff to return. Seamus continued to pace his room, uncomfortably aware that it was too early to get up and yet the last thing he wanted to do was go back to sleep. He should really take up running or some other form of exercise, if only for moments like this. When he started to feel dizzy from walking around and around the same spot so often, he paused to grab the ring Dean had bought him off his bedside table, twirling it agitatedly between his fingers, occasionally throwing it up into the air and catching it one-handed.
He'd been having these dreams for years, but he hadn't had one this bad for a long time. He couldn't even articulate to himself what was so much worse about it than usual - he remembered running and shouting and he'd woken up at the same moment he always did. He was just talking himself in to dropping in to Dean's flat just to reassure himself when Scruff swooped through the open window. Seamus grabbed the note, turning it over to see the response. He didn't even read the words, just registered Dean's scribble and was suddenly able to breathe a little easier. His spirits didn't exactly lift into the skies, but just the absence of heart-clutching fear was enough to let him go about his day.
He was showered, dressed and doing his best to hide his irritability behind a smile when his morning staff showed up. Just one person for the bar and one for the kitchen. Seamus was technically supposed to be doing the accounts, but he knew he wouldn't be able to settle to them. Instead, he leant a hand in the kitchen as they did a thorough weekly clean out and even a bit of reorganising the space. Seamus had a notebook to hand, scrawling down suggested improvements he was going to talk over with Dominic. If his head jerked up every time the outside door opened, if he was a little more short than usual with his instructions... no one mentioned it. Perhaps they put it down to working a full week immediately after returning from holiday.