"it's not really a big deal," comes the third or fourth time he's played nonchalant about the same old, same old– bloody knuckles, nasty cheek scrapes, angry bloody lip from another pointless fight. all for the fun of starting one & because he hated people telling him what to do. the release of the anger always feels good until it doesn't, but he wouldn't be caught dead blubbering about it or displaying how much it did hurt. he was more nonchalant because it felt FOREIGN to be touched so softly. safely. or nurtured. billy hadn't known touch like that since his mother blew away with the wind ten years ago, his brain isn't used to computing a kind touch and for that he's shifting uncomfortably a lot, impatiently. unable to keep his eyes on michelle for someone who was good at being intimidating & eyeing people down. "why're you helping anyway?" another thing he couldn't understand, "do you just like playing nurse as a past time, huh? weird thing to like."