Fuuuck. [William looks at once intrigued and concerned.] Well, I'd.

I'd call that a behavioral compulsion. But it does sound pretty fucking impossible to box up in normal terminology. [The syringe makes short work of sample collection, and he removes it with a quick, clinical shift of his wrist. Caps the needle again and then, a little ridiculously, finds a small round band-aid to press over the hole on her greying corpse-hand.]

I'll let you know if we break ground toward a cure, yeah? [He looks at her, steady. No false reassurances. It is what it is.]