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William slid down the pillar into a sitting position, shaking as the rush of adrenaline left him. It seemed like ages since he'd slept. His arm was throbbing where he had pulled out the pin, what seemed like days ago. Otto had carefully placed the sword on the chair and was examining his shirt with a nondescript resignment.
"And zis vos a really nice vone, too," he sighed. "Ah vell. I suppose zis is juzt an occupational hazard." He looked at William, then crouched down and placed a cold, comforting hand on his shoulder. "Ve should probably be getting back to ze shop. Are you alright? You look almost as pale as I am."
William put his head, which was pounding, in his hands. His forehead was damp with sweat. All the anger, the wonderful feeling of falling-flying, was draining away now, and he could see all the problems yet to come cresting over him like a wave. He felt feverish. He wanted to lie down on the dusty carpet and take a nice long nap. It had been a very, very strange, and very exhausting day. Couple of days, actually. Maybe the problems would look smaller after a rest.
But he knew they wouldn't. Issues don't adjust themselves to fit the issues of the person they are issued, and William had issued a great deal many more issues when he had issued the latest issue. He groaned.
He became dimly aware that Otto had sat down next to him, and was nervously rubbing his back. "Vhen you said you felt sick, I zought you vere using a turn ov vhraze. Are you-"
"No, I was. I'm feeling fine." William said, although his voice sounded a little more strained than he had intended. He pushed himself halfway up, then collapsed back down with a dull whine.
"Villiam?"
Otto sounded very worried. "I'm alright, I'm just a bit tired, that's all. Sorry."
"Vhy are you apologizing?"
He didn't know. "Sorry," he said again.
Otto knelt down and lifted William's arm over his shoulders. He started to pull him to his feet, but William said, "No. Hold on, just..." he scooted forward a bit, closed his eyes, and leaned against Otto's chest. "Can we just... stay here, for a minute, please?"
"Are you sure zat you are alright?"
"No." William adjusted his head so that he wasn't resting against one of Otto's many lumpy pockets. "I'm actually quite sure I'm not."
There was silence for a minute as Otto thought of how to respond to this. "Ah," he said eventually.
Otto's other arm came around to rest on the shoulder that wasn't digging into his collarbone. He squeezed the attached arm reassuringly. William squeaked and recoiled, and Otto hastily withdrew. "Sorry, sorry!" He placed his hand back on his shoulder, away from the wound, and let William resettle.
For a couple minutes, they sat there. Otto listened to William's breathing, felt the dull thumping of his heart as it reverberated into Otto's own body. When the thoughts of returning to the shop began to clang in his head again, Otto carefully took his hand away and prepared once more to lift William to his feet. "Up ve get, Villiam, time to go."
William's breathing was deep and slow, and Otto realized he had fallen asleep. With his own undead strength, William was easier to lift than a feather, and only stirred a little bit to mumble something about carrots. Otto didn't catch exactly what it was, but in his slurring sleep-talk William sounded vaguely affronted. "Okay," said Otto, scooping the exhausted man easily up into a bridal carry. "Let's get you somevere sovt und varm, zen."
"'M sure ihlooks v'funnhy," mumbled William.
Sacharissa dropped a box full of salvaged metal bits when Otto came through the door. "What happened to him?"
"He's okay, just a bit tired I zink," said Otto reassuringly.
She hovered anxiously over William, who shifted in Otto's arms and murmured, "no picshurs, mhm."
"Is there anywhere... horizontal, that we can put him?"
"We dug up a couple of old blankets from the back of the cupboards," said Goodmountain. "Are you sure he's alright?"
"I'm sure vonce he gets a little rest, he vill be vine. He had a shouting match viz Lord de Vorde, you know."
"Who won?" said Sacharissa.
"Ve did, I zink."
"Good on you, then," said Goodmountain cheerfully.
Otto laid William down carefully on a makeshift bed of old misprints and a couple moth-eaten blankets. William shivered and pulled one of them up to his chin, but did not wake. He had slipped out of unsettled dreams of root vegetables, and into the heavy-duty, dreamless sleep of someone who knows deep in their subconscious that they will have to be woken back up in about 20 minutes, whether they want to or not. Sacharissa looked at him.
"Should we... try and take off his boots, or something?"
"Leave him be," said Goodmountain.
"But look, they're sticking out from underneath the blanket-"
"And with the boots still on, his feet won't freeze off. Leave him be." The dwarf walked over to return to the clean up efforts.
Sacharissa looked over at Otto, who was watching William with a strange expression. "Are you alright, Otto?"
"Who, vat, me?" The vampire backpedaled rapidly, jumping to his feet. "Yes, of course, vhy vouldn't I be?"
"Do you need us to start singing?"
"No, no, it's not zat. Come on," he changed the subject hurriedly and stepped around the gently snoring figure. "Let's go help clean up."
"We'll have to wake him up soon, you know," said Sacharissa. "The Watch will want to see him. All of us, I wouldn't be surprised."
"So let us not disturb ze short amount ov sleep he can get at zis moment."
Sacharissa considered this. "Yes. Good idea."
She took his outstretched hand and he helped her up. On the cot of crumpled misspellings, William slept on. He would, indeed, have to be shaken awake in about 20 minutes. But it would be by Sacharissa and Otto, so that was okay.