Billy does his best to look back at Tommy, but part of him is still reaching, grasping for something that isn't there no matter how much he tries. Maybe it's the words. Maybe he needs the words, he'd needed those at first, and he still does. So he'll try the words.

But first, Tommy's talking to him, and he should answer, right? He only catches about one word in three, until he shakes his head, trying to clear it, falling in beside Tommy as he starts to walk off. The last sentences are the first ones that process, his response automatic. "Teal. It's teal, not weird blue. You can have them, if you want. Mine. I'll take yours. We're the same size, anyway." It doesn't matter what color they are. If Tommy wants green, he can have green, and Billy can have--no magic at all--teal.