In any other circumstances, those words would have drawn a sick pang of sympathy from Will – because he'd been there, fuck had he been there – but under the circumstances they only pattered weakly against hard resentment. This time you thought— Go fuck yourself, mate. Much had been dead, what, six months? Stutely had been as good as for years and it had taken Gisborne for anybody to bloody notice, so fuck you very much with your victim shit.
(Which, granted, was another thing Much didn't know about, but it didn't bloody well change the fact of it.)
He shouldered his way inside after Much, giving Tuck a tired look. "Marian's letting the others know."