[ It's been months (years?) since the Mindflayer. Since Billy died. Since Nancy tried to shoot him, knowing something massive and evil and dangerous was pulling his strings. He leans in and she can see him. Clear-eyed and present, no fixed, unblinking star.
It takes her a minute to move past this. To stop looking at him and seeing a dead man and see Billy.
Nancy reaches up a hand. She doesn't slap him, but her fingers catch him by the cheek, hook at the curve of his jaw. Something of the intent lives there, as softly as her hand settles there. ]
Fuck you, [ she repeats, eyes moving over his face. ] What is it you want to show me, Billy? Make up your mind.
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It takes her a minute to move past this. To stop looking at him and seeing a dead man and see Billy.
Nancy reaches up a hand. She doesn't slap him, but her fingers catch him by the cheek, hook at the curve of his jaw. Something of the intent lives there, as softly as her hand settles there. ]
Fuck you, [ she repeats, eyes moving over his face. ] What is it you want to show me, Billy? Make up your mind.