Wilhelm doesn't want to cut himself off from anything. He's desperate to be connected, to crash into someone's atmosphere and burn up and leave behind a crater. Tomorrow, when he's sober, he'll be embarrassed that he opened the lid on all these emotions. But for the moment, there's comfort and being heard and seen. His only response is to squeeze Kell tighter and sway back and forth with him, like they're dancing while sitting side by side.

"Sorry, Kell," he mumbles after a pause. "I wrecked your night. I couldn't catch the lizard, and you had to listen to all my whining."