Billy is bent over a work bench, hands fluttering uselessly across it as he tries to sort out what he needs to keep and what can go. There's so much pressure for him to make the right choices...yet no matter what he does, what is about to happen is completely wrong and he knows it.

His efforts are only broken by a familiar voice. When he hears it, he raises his head and brushes at some of the fringe hanging in his eyes. "Celena," he calls, sounding faint.

"Don't you have your own things to attend to?"