"Then." You take a deep breath. Exhale slowly. Try again. "I can't." Breathe. "One lover with a deathwish is too much already. I can't -- I." Breathe. Bel, breathe. Jethro looks like he thinks he might have to tackle you. You don't want to scare him, you like him. And Erskin, he looks like... he looks like pain and regret, is what he looks like. "Do what you want," you snap, turn on your heel, and stalk out. You're not so angry you forget to be gentle with the fluffcheep (scoop him up, put the coat on, put him in your coat pocket) but the thought of figuring out what to do with those shopping bags is just too much. You leave them where they are. You don't slam the door as you go out, you're too upset for theatrical gestures like that. You just need to go.