Sherry should be in bed right now, but I can bring her by in the morning. I'll be back.
[ He felt strange, getting to his feet and walking down the hall alone after so many hours sitting a meter away from another person, leaving Wesker in the room behind him. It was a strange feeling: solitude had never bothered William, save for the first few weeks after Wesker had left for S.T.A.R.S., but he was acutely aware of the quiet of the hall and the sound of his own footsteps on the linoleum in a way that wasn't entirely pleasant.
He tried not to think about it, in the way he had settled into trying not to think about everything else. This was all far too much to process, especially with as little sleep as he'd gotten: for once Birkin was just tired.
He kept his voice low as he gave Annette the status updates as to avoid his personal business echoing through the empty hallway: alive, conscious, recovering well, no nerves hit, though it had been as serious as he feared. No major internal damage aside from some bleeding, miraculously. She'd already reached out to their babysitter; Annette was smart like that, able to think well in advance. She'd be over in the next thirty minutes, she said.
It felt like disloyalty to get coffee instead of heading right back to the hospital room after he hung up, but he needed something, so William reluctantly headed down the hall, into the elevator, to the shitty little overpriced cafe one floor lower. It would probably do Wesker good to see that he was at least remembering to drink, even if it wasn't water.
Upon his return to the room he set it on the side tray next to the ridiculous cards to cool off and sank back into the hard pleather chair at the foot of the bed. ]
damn well better be!!!
[ He felt strange, getting to his feet and walking down the hall alone after so many hours sitting a meter away from another person, leaving Wesker in the room behind him. It was a strange feeling: solitude had never bothered William, save for the first few weeks after Wesker had left for S.T.A.R.S., but he was acutely aware of the quiet of the hall and the sound of his own footsteps on the linoleum in a way that wasn't entirely pleasant.
He tried not to think about it, in the way he had settled into trying not to think about everything else. This was all far too much to process, especially with as little sleep as he'd gotten: for once Birkin was just tired.
He kept his voice low as he gave Annette the status updates as to avoid his personal business echoing through the empty hallway: alive, conscious, recovering well, no nerves hit, though it had been as serious as he feared. No major internal damage aside from some bleeding, miraculously. She'd already reached out to their babysitter; Annette was smart like that, able to think well in advance. She'd be over in the next thirty minutes, she said.
It felt like disloyalty to get coffee instead of heading right back to the hospital room after he hung up, but he needed something, so William reluctantly headed down the hall, into the elevator, to the shitty little overpriced cafe one floor lower. It would probably do Wesker good to see that he was at least remembering to drink, even if it wasn't water.
Upon his return to the room he set it on the side tray next to the ridiculous cards to cool off and sank back into the hard pleather chair at the foot of the bed. ]
She's coming over.