The moment Mark showed up looking like absolute death, Billy rushed to his side without a second thought. The hesitations he'd had before about social interaction seemed to slip away as he helped get the sickly man to the chair. He itched to help him with the guitar, to get a better look at it. To play it. He hadn't touched an acoustic in months. And that used to be the core of what he did. Just him and a guitar. Now he was just a voice.

He dropped down on the table, in front of Roger, no longer quite knowing what to do or how to proceed. How did he even breech this topic? He felt like he was the one meeting the celebrity, having only heard about Roger liking his music. But Mark returned, with a tirade, before he could do anything. The letter was burning a hole on his pocket.

"It's because we technically represent the company, but none of us have the PR grooming that a lot of people do. Paparazzi trying to take stealth photos and the like might catch us, but we're not allowed to give consent to anything." He said it as smoothly as if it were a truth he said every day.

Then he looked to Roger, some of his confidence faltering again. "I...guess he didn't tell you I was coming? I'm Billy McGee," the false name Higgins gave people when it had to be given. "I...work for Valkyrie Studios?" He gave a cautious smile, watching Roger's face. It also felt incredibly strange and almost thrilling to admit that to someone who didn't already work for the company.