Dan simply nodded when Bryn glanced round. The ghosts he'd wanted dealt with were already gone, after all. Now he just wanted to get everything sorted out and head back to the station so that he could sleep. So he watched the ghosts to see what he could do to hurry things along.
A few, the ghosts that seemed to be the oldest and most tired if their appearance was anything to go by, made their way over towards Bryn's circle. Most of them decided to take their chances in the wider world, and they were all filing out, going through Dan's broken door from earlier and ignoring the snow gusting in from the blizzard outside. Almost all the rest were still dithering in the foyer, unable to decide what they wanted to do, and then one asshole in a tux spoke up.
"Why the fuck should we listen to you, huh?" his voice slurred like he'd been drinking up until recently, and Dan supposed he had been. "You're just a bit of skirt, some broad from fuck-knows-where, and your guy looks half-dead already. The Manager wanted the pair of you dea-"
Dan had heard enough and had shoved at the ghost's throat. He was fed up with being choked in this fucking place, and figured it was only fair that he return the favor, so to speak. Sure, ghosts didn't need to breathe, but nothing could talk if there was a band tightening round its throat. (shut the fuck up and choose where you're going) he sent, smiling at the ghost as he did so. It was obvious that he was annoyed, and his angry smile was almost entirely threat. (otherwise i'll choose for you) he added, before sending a clip of his memory of Mrs Massey being dealt with. He was not entirely surprised to discover that he had balled his fists.