Yeah, well. [He's not sure what to follow that with, though, so he just shrugs and glances where Sheehan is looking.]
This is my apartment at home. [He motions to the doors that don't lead anywhere.] There would be more through there if we were really in Oakland.
[And there's that twinge of guilt again. Maggie told him what happens to Oakland because it has the misfortune of being where he decided to set up shop.]
[He takes a step away, reaching up to put his hands behind his head. He leaves them there, breathing through the feelings. Grounding himself. Centering himself.]
[Shaun frowns.] I've had this shit since before you got here, and it's never been a problem yet. This is... I'm not going to say it's bog standard for everyone, because I know it's not, but for Irwins? It's not that weird.
Most people only bitch at me for not bothering to 'move in' or whatever.
[Sheehan's tired. He's tired and he's a little sick. But he reaches out and hesitantly puts his hands on Shaun's shoulders.]
I'm going to say this in the hopes that even if you don't care about the people here - you care about me.
You could have gotten me demoted, Shaun. If you killed someone, on my watch, then it's not just your ass on the line.
[Sheehan doesn't know if that's actually true or not, but it's not the point.]
It's mine.
But you didn't think about that. In the entire time you've had this, you didn't think about it. You didn't once think about anyone else but yourself. That's what I mean when I said that I failed you.
[Fuck. He's... right. Sheehan is completely right about this, and even the thought that this is just life at home doesn't stop Shaun from realizing how much of a fuckup this is. Getting Sheehan demoted? No. Fuck no. Somehow, he would actually rather give up his guns.]
[He doesn't shrug off the hands. Sheehan doesn't even make his skin crawl.]
Yeah.
[He looks around them. There's... a lot. Having this many weapons makes sense when he's an Irwin--ready to do weird shit for clicks at the drop of a hat. But he's not an Irwin here. He hasn't really been one since George died, despite his certifications. This many guns in one place is... kind of psycho.]
[Some of it probably could be thrown overboard. There's some specialist shit that would definitely never see use in a real situation, but for the rest...]
I'd rather you hold onto it. Except--
[He takes out the one (small) gun he carries with him at all times and shows it to Sheehan. Most people probably wouldn't consider admitting to a concealed weapon to be an intimate confession. But this is Shaun.]
[There's a brief moment of surprised hesitation, but then Shaun brings his arms up to hug him back. It's... not weird or uncomfortable. It's just. Nice.]
Thanks.
[For the hug? For responsible storage of his weapons? Who's to say.]
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[He folds his arms across his chest, feeling defensive.] I'm not sorry I tried, though.
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That's not good enough.
[And he finally sets his sights on Shaun's room. On his arsenal. And he is tired.]
What the hell is all this?
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This is my apartment at home. [He motions to the doors that don't lead anywhere.] There would be more through there if we were really in Oakland.
[And there's that twinge of guilt again. Maggie told him what happens to Oakland because it has the misfortune of being where he decided to set up shop.]
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Fuck.
Shaun.
I really have been failing you, haven't I?
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What? No. Fuck, why would you even say that?
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You have these weapons here. Why? Why so many? Why this?
What if something had happened? What if you hurt people, Shaun? Innocent people who aren't walking dead?
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Most people only bitch at me for not bothering to 'move in' or whatever.
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I'm going to say this in the hopes that even if you don't care about the people here - you care about me.
You could have gotten me demoted, Shaun. If you killed someone, on my watch, then it's not just your ass on the line.
[Sheehan doesn't know if that's actually true or not, but it's not the point.]
It's mine.
But you didn't think about that. In the entire time you've had this, you didn't think about it. You didn't once think about anyone else but yourself. That's what I mean when I said that I failed you.
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I.
Fuck.
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Yeah. Fuck.
You have to make a change, Shaun. You have to do something different. You aren't home.
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Yeah.
[He looks around them. There's... a lot. Having this many weapons makes sense when he's an Irwin--ready to do weird shit for clicks at the drop of a hat. But he's not an Irwin here. He hasn't really been one since George died, despite his certifications. This many guns in one place is... kind of psycho.]
What do you think I should do with them?
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[He steps closer, shaking his head.] If you can't stomach that, then - give them to me? I can put them all in - in a big locker or something.
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I'd rather you hold onto it. Except--
[He takes out the one (small) gun he carries with him at all times and shows it to Sheehan. Most people probably wouldn't consider admitting to a concealed weapon to be an intimate confession. But this is Shaun.]
I want to keep this one. It was George's.
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You can keep it. Can I put an Admiral restriction on it? That you can only use it in true defense of yourself or someone else?
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Yeah. That'd work.
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[And then, in a very impulsive move, he pulls him into an embrace.]
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Thanks.
[For the hug? For responsible storage of his weapons? Who's to say.]