He was laid out on the couch-- he and several other clones of himself, that is. They were playing mario cart, arguing and yelling at each other like brothers would. All were a part of Billy, and he had no problem splitting and reforming as he needed. He cared about his clones-- but they were just that. Clones. Duplicates of himself.

Sure, they'd act a bit different, but none were to different from the original source.