[ William's concern is like sandpaper on his skin. He resents it like he resents Charles's perfectly logical maybe-it-wasn't-the-ship suggestion because he doesn't know what to do with either.

Can't it be enough that I'm here doing you a favor? he wants to ask. William really pissed him off last jump, but here he is-- he thinks he (or anyone) would have ample reason to never speak to him again. But of course it's not enough; it's never enough for anyone that he just does things. They've got to pick at him and if it's not one reason it's another, but it's always because something is wrong with him. 'Concern' like this or trying to interrogate or vilify him.

Bitterness coils in his chest, but he's too tired to lash out. ]

I'll need scrap metal and dirt. [ He's just not going to acknowledge any of that, because fuck you. ] Transfiguration is not always permanent, and with little things like this and all their parts that are meant to change when they hit a target, it's risky leaving them for too long in storage. They might revert given enough time. I can make you a few test rounds, then more before you leave.