The kitchen is a good temperature at least. It’s not too hot at least, nothing was cooking. He’s got full body shakes going on even as Steve joins him in the room, and his arms around his middle like someone that’s hurt even though he’s not.

The noises of the demobats is muffled more as the door swings shut behind him. "Wrong. Too small, too scrawny." Billy sounds like he’s freezing even as he swears. "Smaller than Rogers. Smaller than Harrington."

He presses his hands against the wall and leans his forehead against it as he tries to ground himself. "Temba. Not the mall. Not Hawkins, not Indiana, safe. In the diner." He repeats that, shakily and trying to breathe.