[Worm]

Sipping on his water, William tried to disguise his shaking hands. Something had come over him in the little time away from his strange visit. He felt as though someone were watching him constantly, making him slightly queasy. "Yes, yes. I'm sure they're just rumors." He tried to dispel his own insecurities in this response. The thought of the old widow, brought pangs of guilt. She's just a tired, old woman. Nothing to worry about. He cleared his throat, looking over at the love of his life, remembering the comment she'd made earlier, and nearly spitting out water.

"Oh, Emily. Two weeks cannot come fast enough." He wished he was close enough to her to gently place his hand on hers. Instead, a gust of cold wind breathed through the room. Even the flame in the fireplace wiggled. William's attempts to put Miss Ward behind him were futile. And her face was etched in his subconscious. Little did he know that she was just outside of Emily's warm home. She could see everything inside through a wobbly, foggy lens. She had a cloak on, posing as a young person, out past dark. Which speaking of, William glanced at his wristwatch. "Emily, my dear. I must be heading home to finalize some - affairs for Ms. Ward." He sighed, quickly finishing up the glass of water. As he stood up, Elizabeth made contact with Emily's eyes. Through veneers of time, her face burned into Elizabeth's field of psychic vision. She held in a screech, the pain was much too real. Was this, who she thought it was?

William rose from his seat, followed by the women. With a much-too-brief hug, he released Emily to her keeper. Much like her, he was anxious for their wedding. He was ready for a time when he could go home to her, rather than his beaten up attic studio. He had saved every bit of money from his clients and even locked down the perfect home for him and his lovely woman. It wouldn't be the first time that a well-off woman would marry someone rising from poverty, but it warmed his heart to think that this page boy would have nobility beneath his sheets. Sure, now he had wealth. Though his hovel didn't show it. He lived above a barber shop for heaven's sake. But he created his own business, and his own prosperity. Something which was very rare in times like these.

Emily was crouched down next to the topiaries outside of Emily's house. Her face was stricken with grief. Real tears came from her hollowed eyes, something she was convinced would never happen again. A heave, and she stood. Her form became shadows and she disappeared into the dank darkness of Flint. William was almost sure that he saw something as he left. He could almost smell it. With pinched lips and a concerned brow, he said his farewells and the door was closed behind him. He suddenly realized how cold it was outside. Luckily his home was a short walk from Emily's. He braced himself, wrapping both arms around his chest. There was a howl in the wind. He was brought back to Ms. Ward.

"What have you heard of Miss Ward?" A voice tickled his ear. He lifted a hand to swat at it. His breathing became shaky and nervous. "Well?" The voice was much like a whisper, barely touching him with its breath. He spun around to confront it, but there was only darkness. He flipped back to the welcoming street lamps of Flint's business district. With hurried steps, he focused on the patter against cobblestone, entering a meditative state of mind. He had to distract himself from these pestering thoughts. After all, he wasn't crazy, right? It was just a little apprehension. And who wouldn't be after a strange encounter like that? As he tried to normalize and rationalize, he realized that he was right back into his anxious way of thinking. Before he knew it, he saw the newly painted building and its sign reading "Barber".

He rushed inside, the cold breeze throwing the door behind him.

"Will, s'that you?" A boisterous voice made its way down the stairwell.

"Yes'm. Just finished talking to the Ward residence." He didn't feel the need to mention his brief time with Emily. As it was part of his routine nowadays.

"Oh goodie. She pays well, I presume?" The woman had bounced down the stairs to give him a hug. Will sighed into it, her gelatin form was still a hard hit against his lanky body.

"I haven't gotten the specifics, but from speaking with her, I surely hope it will." He hung his coat and hat up before following the stairwell up to his room.

"Have you eaten?" She chased after him, her hair pinned up for the night flopped on her head.

"I have not. Feeling a bit under the weather. Perhaps breakfast?" He stopped on the stairs after he felt a hand grab his forearm.

"William, you need to eat." Mrs. Turner's eyes were wide and sparkling, but her brows furrowed with a sort of dominance.

"I am fine, Olivia." His frustration showed beneath his breath.

"I wish you wouldn't call me that." She pulled her hand away, a distaste in her voice. "It is your choice, however. I will wake you for breakfast then." She sighed, making her way downstairs to the barbershop. Her and her husband's bedroom was on the second floor. William was above them in a small attic. He managed to fit a cot and a desk for his work. When he made it up the rickety ladder, he could finally hear himself think again. He let out a long sigh and fell onto his cot, turning out the oil lamp he'd carried into the attic like every night before.

The window was open and creaking with the wind. Yet, he managed to fall asleep. Elizabeth, however, had other intentions for William Shaw.