"Fine," Although it's not really fine, especially considering they're drinking, but he isn't going to argue. "But I don't want to hear any bitching later about the food being cold." It's hard not to feel helpless, useless, even. So he settles in to keeping their cups filled and working his way through a burger. There's not much to be had in the way of conversation, but the physical connection is there, grows with each swallow of whiskey.

Before long, he's moved his chair around so they're sitting next to each other, letting his hand rest in Billy's lap. Eddie reaches to steal the cigarette from his lips, takes a few drags of his own before passing it back. All he wants to do is help, and he isn't sure that this counts.