"And here I was just desperately hoping you were going to start with something along the lines of 'find a nice comfortable way to plug those gaps,'" answers the Saint, with a sad sort of sigh, and a little bit of a cigarette-gesture (again, of course) that is maybe a little bit stabby and a little bit thrusty and really it would probably have been better for the sake of Ortus's mental health if the thrusting hadn't repeated three or four times.

"Some of those holes are quite glorious," he adds, tone shifting a bit more conciliatory, and when did he get quite close enough to clap Ortus on the shoulder in such a companionable way? How can Ortus get away again without causing offense?? His hand squeezes that doughy, monklike shoulder, quite firmly, although not quite painfully. (Maybe just a little bit too athletically for comfort.)

"The way I see it, you've got a few options," Patience continues, still gripping poor Ortus's shoulder, smoking with his other hand. "Now, spray foam is not sealant — I wouldn't recommend counting on that to do anything good for you, especially not internally — but even if you don't want to replace all the warped boards — which is arguably the highest-quality fix, although it's also going to be the most time-intensive — you should still be able to find some nice faggots for the largest gaps, and once you've got them jammed into those holes as hard and deep as you can, you can caulk them in place the rest of the way."

This last part, unlike all those earlier parts, said with the straightest and kindliest of faces, of course.