Pale eyes narrow at Jay, they're standing right in the middle of the walkway and he doesn't care. Jay can hang onto his arm, though, because the last time Rook twisted his arm was when they were kids and never since then. He has never lifted a hand against his brother and will never do so, Jay is free to slap him in the face and it will not result with violence.

However, irritation and sharp words are a completely different ball game.

"I'm wallowing, am I?" he says in a low, dangerous rumble of a voice. "What the fuck would you have me do? I'm not drunk, I'm working, I'm eating, I'm pissing and I'm even sleeping. I'm not looking anyone to hold my bloody hand, Jay."

He's not going back to fighting. That life has been seen. No, he has no fucking idea what he's going to do now or if any of it will be worth his while. But he sure as hell isn't going to drag his brother down this fast spiral down that he feels under his feet now.