He looks at Jay for a minute - slumped in defeat, probably stewing in his own guilty conscience. Good. He should. With a couple of questions and a well-aimed betrayal he'd singlehandedly dismantled the tentative, weird state of stability they'd begun to work out between them.

With an acquiescing grunt, he releases the door entirely and stumps over to his meager little bag of supplies, all his personal ephemera he hasn't even gotten around to unpacking for fear of establishing some sense of home in this place and, well. He's just more or less had it proved to him why that would be a bad thing.

"Guess I should change," he admits, yanking his other shirt out to exchange it with his current one, snapping the bathroom door shut firmly behind him.