Dan shoved the drunken asshole backwards, even while Bryn put her hand on his shoulder. He was very very tempted to trap the dipshit in a lockbox, but didn't fancy bringing him back to the station. As it was, he just shoved him through one of the destroyed chandeliers - it didn't hurt as such, but it sure as hell looked uncomfortable - and slammed him against the wooden doorframe. It was not what he wanted to do (to slam his fists into the bastard's face a few times) but they didn't have the luxury of time. That, and he wasn't exactly sure if ghost-punching was a thing that was possible.
The asshole left of his own accord as soon as Dan stopped shoving. "I am very sore, and very tired, and I have no patience for anyone else fucking about," he said, both out loud and with the Shining. "This place will be gone in less than five minutes. Decide now." And then he coughed, turned his head and spat up blood. The undecided ghosts quickly made up their minds. The small group of tired ghosts grew a little larger, and the foyer quickly emptied.
His anger faded suddenly, replaced by a bone-deep weariness. "Bryn... be quick," he said, biting back a yawn, and leaned heavily on the bone staff once more.