Coughlin's Law: Bury the dead.
They stink up the joint.

As for the rest of
Coughlin's Laws, ignore them.

The guy was always
full of shit.

But I guess you
knew that already.

- Excuse me. The Mooneys. Brian Flanagan.
- I know who you are, pal.

But I've been instructed
not to let you into the building.

- If you'd just let...
- Leave now!

Look, I just want to talk to her for a few
minutes. I don't want to cause any trouble. Just...

- Send her a letter. Out!
- Get your hands off me, man.

- Where's Jordan? Where's Jordan?
- She's in there.

- In there?
- Yeah. Hey, you can't go in there.

- Open the door! Open the door!
- Jordan? Jordan!

- What? What's going on?
- Jordan, I have to talk to you.

Please. There's so many things.
I don't know where to begin.

Doug is dead.
- What?
- He killed himself.

- Oh, Brian.
- He was my best friend, but he was too proud to let me help him.

He was too proud to show how he felt
until it was too late.

I don't want to make
that same mistake, Jordan.

- He pushed right past me in the sitting room.
- I thought I told you to keep that punk out of this house.

- I'm sorry. He got by me.
- Jordan? Jordan, are you in there?

I have saved money. I've worked out
a loan with my uncle for some more.

- With hard work, I know I can turn it into something great.
- Flanagan, open the door!

- Brian, I know you can. I know you can. But, really, it doesn't really matter.
- No. Listen to me. Listen to me!