Will has spent a lot of time in the minds of psychopaths and narcissists. The unstable and the unwell. Sometimes it feels like he’s spent more time as someone else than he has as himself.

He taps his fingers against his wrist, an action equally idle as it is anxious. Will hasn’t had much time to himself lately. Even in his lonelier moments, the reflection of his own face is always there for company. In a glass, a window, his glasses when they sit in his lap.