Jamie quirked a brow regarding the shack being up to her standards. That could mean a whole slew of things, many of which he'd rather ignore. He was, however, a bit hesitant to go in. He had a feeling he wasn't going to be exactly pleased with how she'd cleaned up the place and made it to her standards. "You'd have had Arawn and whatever you called the white one to keep you company," he ended up saying instead.

But then she shot a spray of water at him and he returned a look of soggy anger back to her. "Was that really necessary?" he asked, bringing his hands up to wipe the water from his face. He really wasn't keen on the idea of stripping out of dirty clothes outside of the house, especially with her around. He'd likely never hear the end of it from Mac or Immie.

"I think I'd rather take my clothes off in the comfort of my own room," he said with a huff as he made his way toward the area she indicated to ditch his boots at least. He'd see to them later. All he wanted was a decent scrubbing from the wash basin in the shack, a new pair of clothes and a hot mug of coffee spiked with some whiskey. And sleep. On his bed. The woman could be damned and do whatever she wanted from then on out.

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