Billy doesn't expect the sudden change, and the return to where they started makes his stomach turn. The halls are the same, the clothes are the same, the dread he feels is the same -- but when he rushes through the door after Charles, nothing is the same.
Erik had begged them to let him do this, to murder a man for what he'd done, and Billy had done what he could to stop him. Maybe it's Erik's right to do what he wants to a man who would ruin his life, but Billy can't stomach the idea of killing a man for it -- just wishing to kill someone had been more than enough for him once upon a time, and he'd never been able to think that much ill of someone ever since.
He still doesn't understand how others can do it in cold blood, even for good reason.
"You killed him," he says, eyes fixed on the tiny flow of blood coming from such a neat wound. So small and simple, but enough to snuff out a life in a matter of moments.
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Erik had begged them to let him do this, to murder a man for what he'd done, and Billy had done what he could to stop him. Maybe it's Erik's right to do what he wants to a man who would ruin his life, but Billy can't stomach the idea of killing a man for it -- just wishing to kill someone had been more than enough for him once upon a time, and he'd never been able to think that much ill of someone ever since.
He still doesn't understand how others can do it in cold blood, even for good reason.
"You killed him," he says, eyes fixed on the tiny flow of blood coming from such a neat wound. So small and simple, but enough to snuff out a life in a matter of moments.