The construction guys had been hired by a friend, and they were pretty much on autopilot. Billy didn't know shit about construction and he was good enough not to interfere in what they were doing, and he hadn't done a lot of moving (nor did he have a lot of stuff, to be straight about it) so they hadn't needed to move a lot to work on the carpet and the bathroom. Bare concrete and carpet glue dominated the majority of the apartment, but the room was starting to come together at one end in beautiful rose hardwood. Another couple of them had torn up the linoleum in the kitchen and bathroom and replaced it with sturdier stuff that Billy didn't know the name of; it was a better color but not as slippery as tile. Most of the remodeling was about mobility, smoothing out a small step to get into the bedroom so he didn't have to lift his knee, replacing the floor so he could wheel on it if he was having a hell day--and when they got to the counters, they'd make them stronger and an inch or so lower.
Billy was actually grateful for the relative silence, but he was adverse to the interruption of the knock on the door. "Coming," he shouted at it. The wheelchair wasn't viable at the present, not with all the uneven surfaces, but Billy had spent most of the day either in a chair or in bed. Easing his weight on the cane he took a breath and carefully made his way to the door. It took him about three times as long as a mobile person.
Stopping short, he just pulled the knob and let it swing past him--it saved time moving forward and moving back. He gave the guy on the other side a welcoming smile and hid his discomfort with the situation. Billy hadn't spent a lot of time around non-medical strangers since the accident, and he was braced for a lot of strange looks and really awkward questions. Healing was more than getting across a room, though. "Hey." He looked past Simon at the canvases and blinked. "Wow, you brought a lot. Come on in." The apartment still smelled of construction dust.
Other than the cane and a very obvious limited range of motion in his left leg and arm, there wasn't anything visibly wrong with Billy. He still had a handsome face that some pain lines around his eyes didn't much detract from, and the button up shirt looked normal enough even if it didn't quite go with the sweats. Billy didn't bother trying to get jeans on unless he went outside. They were hell.