Although he was quite accustomed to a more luxurious estate William surprisingly did not have any serious problem taking refuge in something that amounted to a shack. He had long ago realized that if he complained about everytime that he would have to sleep somewhere he did not particularly find attractive, then he would be wasting his breath just about any instance where he went to close his eyes. This, of course, did not mean he enjoyed sleeping in ruins or the like, it simply meant he would tolerate it. Getting sleep was necessary for the body to function after all.
There had been little talk when they finally found their place to bed, and that did not really bother William. Here was a woman from his past, one he was supposed to wed and spend his life with, but he did not show any real sign of being too interested in her at all. He was tired from the stress of all the events that had happened today. Being tainted by that beast-woman's touch, finding a possible lead and then losing it, becoming a victim of thievery, and, most importantly, reuniting with his biggest rival in the weapons industry. Going to sleep, even if it be uncomfortable, was much more appealing that dealing with any more fatigue. William was out in mere seconds after lying down.
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...Father?
"..."
Discovering his father face-down, broken and bleeding on the ground was not as traumatizing as it normally would be for William. It was typically how people ended up after being shot and losing consciousness or, in this case, his their life. The crimson pool continued to grow as blood seeped from the wound on William's Father's chest. His heart had been obliterated by a single bullet, and it was unlikely he even felt much pain before he died. The blonde man that gazed upon the corpse did not feel anger or sorrow. He did not tear up nor did he clinch his fist. But perhaps that much is to be expected. When introduced to death at a very young age, it becomes much to easy to shrug a life off, especially of those you don't particularly care for. In William's mind, it was not much different from witnessing the death of someone they had captured and used as live tests for the Abram's weapons. It was just a death, nothing to feel anything from. Nothing to be sad, angry, or happy about. But he... he felt something. Something foreign, something strange, something awkward, something unknown. The feeling was not positive and he did not hold any sense of attachment to the owner of the body that now lay on the floor. He expressed no desire to remain near the body any longer.
So.... why did he not just pass it by like the many bodies that littered the grounds of the estate before?
Showing respect to those who did not deserve it was not something William was capable of. He had no qualm about kicking his father's deceased body to roll it over, save maybe that he'd get blood on his shoes, although the aforementioned dead bodies scattered across the ground had already accomplished that. He wanted to know what was causing this strange feeling inside of him. He knew it couldn't be some form of hidden sorrow, he knew that was the truth - that he did not feel sadness towards the man's death. But, then what was this? As the body rolled over, his father's face was revealed. It was then that William knew what the feeling was.
He felt disgust.
A pitiful, cowardly expression was the last thing his father wore on his face. His features twisted in fear, it wouldn't be too hard to predict his last words, had he managed to mutter any. He probably died saying something along the lines of, "Please.... no" or, "I don't want to die...". It nearly made the golden-haired boy puke that he was related to something like that. Something so weak, so helpless, so pitiful. If there was anything in the world William could wish for that he did not already have, it was a parent he did not absolutely loath. But, well, perhaps no parent at all would suffice. Even with all of those accomplishments, a coward was a coward and a coward was useless, unnecessary. Good riddance.
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"...idiot..."
The dream had not brought any particular luggage with it, be it physical or mental. That was not the first time that William relived that day, in fact he did so quite often and moreso than he'd like, so it certainly did not cause William's mood to change for the worse. However.... waking up to an insult did not have absolutely no effect, as William awoke with a scowl and a swift thump to her head.
"Do not insult me, especially in the morning, woman. I am up." he grumbled as he sat up, stretched his limbs, and popped his neck. When he was done, he turned to the blonde-haired beauty/annoyance.