I don't know about hope. Or inter-Jump disappearances, for that matter, [William answers, at length. Closet pessimist maybe. He looks like it sometimes, his friendly, kicked-runt aspect, works too many hours, probably overcompensating for something.] But I'm a hundred and twenty percent certain somebody's going to get shot or fucking stabbed or bit around here eventually, so the training's definitely a good idea. If you could lie still a moment, but just keep talking and breathing like normal--

[He lifts up the scanner in his hands. Focuses it on her long-limbed body, but otherwise does nothing else medically or scientifically impressive. Instead, he talks on.] What was you thinking?