....well, okay, yeah, there might have been a few nice things, here and there, that shower definitely included among them, but the weight of those were vastly overpowered by the...everything else of it all!

And, look at that, how convenient that Amaya should find Dwight's pants just in time for her to sending them careening straight for his face.

Consider it a warning shot before being hit with the sheer incredulousness of her stare.

"Dwight!" Amaya's low gravelly voice could not really reach the level of shrillness it was going for, but it sure as hell tried. "We got ma--"

The word to stop mid-exit out of her mouth, like her ability to speak had just ran head first into some kind of silence spell.

"We got maaarr--."

She stopped, ducked her head, hand to her chest as another attempt failed and faltered.

"Ma-a-a-arr...."

She was literally incapable of even saying the word, Dwight!

"We done got hitched!" she finally blurted out, throwing up her arms in exasperation, because that wasn't even the worst of it, she didn't even want to think about the worst of it, despite the evidence of it staring undeniable in her face right now, that he'd actually stayed over and in her own bed, no less!

With that, and the firm decision that she could not, would not, have the wherewithall to deal with any of this right now, she turned on her heels and stomped the short distance to the bathroom, where she slammed the door behind her, which she seemed to think might help in muffling the absolutely gutteral howl of frustration that escaped her, which it absolutely did not.

Look, maybe she just needed a moment. Or two. Or several years to process this right now, that's all.