[ A muted, but not mumbled question in Wesker's direction. The sun had begun to come through the cracks in the blinds, its warm bright light a cruel instrument against unrested, dark-circled eyes. It had been impossible to sleep, a laughable idea; his body was still flooded with the various neurotransmitters associated with intense, acute stress anyway. William's hands had long since stopped shaking, but tension remained in his shoulders as he worked beside the bedrail, even moreso than the usual degree.
Through what remained of the night he'd tried his best to focus on the papers in front of him and avoid dwelling on itβon what it had felt like to hear Albert tell him in earnest that he was dying. Nothing had ever haunted him like this. He'd only really seen Wesker afraid once besides this, when they were both teenagers watching the door close permanently behind them, and that hadn't stuck with him in the same way.
He still looked like shit, his hair damp with undried sweat and almost entirely free of the usual product's hold, but he didn't look so pallid, at least, and his breathing was deeper. The vitals weren't fantastic, but they were better. Feverish, but nowhere near the precipice of septic shock. ]
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[ A muted, but not mumbled question in Wesker's direction. The sun had begun to come through the cracks in the blinds, its warm bright light a cruel instrument against unrested, dark-circled eyes. It had been impossible to sleep, a laughable idea; his body was still flooded with the various neurotransmitters associated with intense, acute stress anyway. William's hands had long since stopped shaking, but tension remained in his shoulders as he worked beside the bedrail, even moreso than the usual degree.
Through what remained of the night he'd tried his best to focus on the papers in front of him and avoid dwelling on itβon what it had felt like to hear Albert tell him in earnest that he was dying. Nothing had ever haunted him like this. He'd only really seen Wesker afraid once besides this, when they were both teenagers watching the door close permanently behind them, and that hadn't stuck with him in the same way.
He still looked like shit, his hair damp with undried sweat and almost entirely free of the usual product's hold, but he didn't look so pallid, at least, and his breathing was deeper. The vitals weren't fantastic, but they were better. Feverish, but nowhere near the precipice of septic shock. ]