"Tyrell..." Byrne sighed. He really wished he knew how these people knew about him and Badd so well, too. And Badd was right, there wasn't any justification for such emotional trauma. It was downright cruel, plus a lot of other nasty adjectives. But still...

It was useless to keep trying to disagree with him, Byrne supposed. Badd would keep insisting the institute was the only one in the wrong, Byrne would keep tossing his guilt at him, and then it'd just be this back and forth thing, like an unending emotional tennis match. Was it worth it? Not really.

There was something else to focus on now, anyway. Specifically, the folded piece of paper (a photograph, maybe?) that Badd just pulled out of his pocket, which piqued Byrne's curiosity instantly. Hopefully this would provide him with a well-needed distraction from the events of last night. "What's that?"