Steph is glaring and so is Don, but Lor takes their looks and throws it back at them two-fold. They stay like that for a while, all indignation and smoldering rage and nigh-popped veins in foreheads until, grudgingly, Lor rolls his eyes and swears.

“I’m sorry you’re dead, Steph,” Lor spits out.

“Is that it!” Steph howls.

Lor snorts.

“What we were hoping for,” Don starts, ever the peacemaker, “was-”

“You’re the one that killed me!” Steph is rather shrill, even considering that his voice is produced with an ectoplasmic voicebox. “I’d expected a little more than that!”

“Did you.”