He nodded in agreement. There weren't a lot of Skeeters left at this point. He hoped it was a good long while before another funeral took place–obnoxious as his brothers were, he didn't want them dead. "Stay?" He repeated curiously and turned fully towards her. Not that he had a terribly exciting life to go back to. It was mostly work, solitary dinner and drinks at a muggle pub–though sometimes he did have coworkers join him–and then home to do it all again the next day.

He and Tamsin weren't particularly close, but he suddenly had the worrying thought that she was in trouble. If she'd come to him for help, who was he to say no? She'd chosen him over their other brothers. He furrowed his brow and winced, his injury forgotten for a moment, "Is something wrong?"