[An offer of help was more than William had expected, judging by the confused spring to his eyebrows. To the best of his own recollection, he had been answering a question about his substance use after having been knocked soundly for his evasion.] Thanks, professor. But it ain't nothing a bit of weed some days don't sort, [he says.]

[(To be fair, this is the first time he has ever been possessed by a demon.) (Certainly, it's been an ordeal of some years, but it's one continuous ordeal; he has no way of knowing.)

Help offered is better than a grimacing recoil, at any rate. If that help offered happens to be wearing a formidable scowl, well-- so has it ever. He imagines he had been too slow answering; Severus must be aggravated at the delay on his way to his next deed of exasperated samaritanship, or magical studies, or sitting in the cold darkness in his room, or whatever it is.] And thanks for the bullets. [He stands up too, bag over his shoulder.] I'll be along wif the stuff soon.

Hope fings get better.