It's what Max called it, and it was fitting so Billy went with it. He sticks his tongue out when he sees his paper hitting the other before going back to drawing.

Only to have the favor returned, with the paper bouncing off of his curls. It's the paper with the black veins all over. He had seen them in the mirror, in any reflection really, even when he wasn't the one in charge of his body.

The paper bounces to the floor and the crayon snaps in his hand. It's all too much, being trapped in this place, and the chair scrapes against the floor as he springs to his feet. It teeters and falls over. "Why is everyone in this fucking bunker so annoying and shitty?!?!" he yells, unable to help himself. His short fuse was nearing its end, ready for Billy to blow.