To cover his own spike of - thoroughly rational, but probably unhelpful - anger, Seamus took another long swallow of his whiskey. He followed it with a truffle which he bit into more aggressively than the poor chocolate deserved, all in mutinous silence. "Fuck her, then," he announced, unable to keep the anger completely out of his voice. "Someone who could do that to anyone has no right -" Seamus scowled, sitting up a little again. "Let alone -" His frustration that he couldn't do anything, couldn't direct this anger anywhere, made him inarticulate. "Why are people so stupid?"
He wanted to get up out of bed and start pacing, but Dean was sort of leaning on him and Seamus didn't want to disturb him. He huffed out a sound that was half-sigh, half-growl. "At least let me ban her from the premises," he muttered, because he knew without having to ask that Dean would absolutely not let him do anything else to manifest his anger towards Ophelia.