Outside is better, but not perfect. Billy feels his way along the exterior wall until he finds a place to just sit. He sinks to the ground with the wall against his back and he tries to ignore the weird sky that happens in Hell.

He pushes his hands over his face and his hair, holding his head as tightly as he can for a moment. There's nothing to count out here, nothing that he's willing to count.

Frank is there. Just Frank. Just the wall. Just the ground.