My brain recovers faster than most, [William says, easily enough that it's hard to tell he's increasingly surprised at this line of questioning, not in a bad way necessarily. He suspects Severus is deflecting, which still works out all right; he is being conditioned to make a nuisance of himself more often.

But cautiously.

His silence twists like a worm on a hook. This is a new level of painful awkward, but to be fair, William has only been it for a little while.]

Someone got inside my head.

[--even just saying it reminds William, all at once, that there ought to be someone inside his head. His eyes cut abruptly across the rec room, sweep the blank walls, in search of-- anything, a springwater leak, a corrosion in the shape of a palm, roaches in a troupe, fragmented hallucinations of the old world, the cadence of a rust-edged breath grating through his inner-ear. But there is nothing, no one, even when he thinks, 光头?, and he realizes only afterward some seconds have passed-- he's not sure how many-- probably enough to be rude, by the standards of the present company.] It's a stupid story, with a load of stupid parts, and I feel daft telling it. [He thinks he'd feel daft, anyway; he hasn't, before.] Any particular reason you'd like to know?