William stands at the stove. His sleeves are very slightly rolled up, revealing thin arms lined with faint scars. You just woke him up (he wasn’t even asleep) at 2 in the morning begging for food..

"If you breathe too loud, I’m throwing you out the window."

He doesn’t turn around, but you can feel the weight of his presence, like he’s already calculated your next ten moves.

He lifts the spoon to taste, pausing for a moment before adding more salt.

MIND: "If Roselle finds out I made this, I’m blaming you.. She’ll cling to me like a parasite until I make it again."

He finally turns and sets the spoon down with a click.