Veronica is with the motorcycle-boy, thoroughly distracted.

It'll have to do. Right now, that's not where his focus is.

He can barely see Lilly now; she's a shimmer in the air, like heat rising in a desert.

Low and urgent, "Lilly?"

Fuck, he thinks.

He can't touch her physically, but all the same he's reaching out with the touch, a formless call reinforcing his words.

He can only guess what's going on. Let alone how to help.