He stands, because being on his feet suddenly seems like a better call than being seated.
On a bed.
He suddenly, desperately doesn't want to know how long Billy's been living here. He takes a few steps toward the window, then away from it. He reaches out and presses his palm flat against the wall, putting a deceptively large amount of pressure into the heel of his hand, trying to steady himself, and all the while makes sure that his back stays to Billy.
"I don't know what-" His throat closes up. He wants to count to three and breathe, or something, but his mind is too full of some kind of terrible white noise.
"I don't know how to... deal... with that information." It's honest, at least, if not very strongly worded.
no subject
On a bed.
He suddenly, desperately doesn't want to know how long Billy's been living here. He takes a few steps toward the window, then away from it. He reaches out and presses his palm flat against the wall, putting a deceptively large amount of pressure into the heel of his hand, trying to steady himself, and all the while makes sure that his back stays to Billy.
"I don't know what-" His throat closes up. He wants to count to three and breathe, or something, but his mind is too full of some kind of terrible white noise.
"I don't know how to... deal... with that information." It's honest, at least, if not very strongly worded.