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[He can't bear to see her so afraid, especially not of him, and instead focuses on something in the distance, a muscle in his cheek twitching as he clenches his jaw, barely daring to breathe. She can probably hear his heart racing in his chest...]

... I think... We're in the clear. [He moves to straighten from his crouch but just as he does, a hand, larger than his, claps onto his shoulder, keeping him in place. "Sneaking 'round again, Will?" Oh, God. He closes his eyes briefly to try and contain his horror, swallowing thickly.]

Not at all. Just having a look. [He looks over his shoulder, careful not to turn around and expose her.] Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll just be going...

[He tries to make a quick exit but the hand still clamped on his shoulder stops him taking so much as two steps. "Hang about." William could swear that his heart just stopped in his chest.] Yes?

["What've you got there?"] Nothing. Absolutely -- Ah! [The hand squeezes mercilessly, forcing William to shrug away from his grip, jostling Gabriella as he quickly drops her into his free hand, keeping it at his side, just barely behind his back. "Come on, show us! What're you hiding?"]

[Wordlessly, William reaches into a pocket and, slowly, reveals a handful of books. Better to be discovered as a thief than as a traitor to the species. ] Listen, no one need know about this. We - we could keep it between us... Alright?

[A disgusted look at the books in his palm and spitting at his feet, the other giant, his face broad and a little puggish, turns to leave. "Pathetic. Shouldn't fill your head with that rubbish, Will. Next thing, you'll think you're one of 'em." And with that, he stomps away, glancing back once to glare at William.]

[William doesn't stick around to chat, either. He's quick to head off himself, Gabriella held perhaps a little to tightly in his hand, taking her the only place he knows she'll be safe. He doesn't stop walking until he reaches the entrance to what is essentially a house (http://blog.hotelclub.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/09/underground.jpg) carved out of a base of a mountain, the front door easily large enough to let him through.]

[ooc: Heading off to dinner with the family, so will probably be back later :D]

Wow...

[He doesn't relax his grip until the door's firmly closed behind him, releasing a sigh as his shoulders slumping in relief. Her exclamation seems to remind him that she's there and he glances down at her, quirking his lips into a rather pitiful smile. He rather wishes she could have seen it under better circumstances.]

[Rather than bare rock, the walls are covered in paper, each one covered in a scrawling, seemingly endless writing. One wall is lined with handmade shelves, each one stacked with books and manuscripts, plays, novels, and next to them is a curiously designed pair of glasses. One lens has a clever little contraption on it which helps to magnify the small font, making it easier for him to read.] Let me just set you down...

[He looks for the best place to put her, eventually deciding on the small, crudely crafted dining table. He places his hand on the table top while he takes a seat in the single chair next to it, but doesn't uncurl his fingers just yet. He brushes the tip of a finger gently against her cheek, his brow furrowing in concern.] Are you alright?

I'm fine. I'm just a mess.

Thank you, William. I...I'm so sorry I put you in that position. I can go home, and I won't bother you again.

[Though he's certain his anguished expression isn't doing anything to help the situation, there isn't anything he can do to hide it.] Please --

[He reaches into the pocket of his trousers and pulls out a white, folded handkerchief, though it's as large a blanket to her, and sets it down within reach. He doesn't fully understand the reason for her tears but doesn't have the heart to pull his hand away.] Don't be frightened. I didn't mean to -- Are - are you hurt? I didn't mean to treat you so roughly...

[He leans forward miserably, slouching in his chair to set his chin on edge of the table.] Or to put you in any danger.

'm sorry. > What? N-no, William. It wasn't you. Okay you made me jump when you grabbed me, but it wasn't you. You...no, I'm fine. You didn't do anything wrong.

I got myself in danger. I didn't mean to get you into trouble...

[He swallows thickly, his weak smile tremulous but there nonetheless.] You couldn't have known

[He straightens, squeezing his eyes shut and running a hand over his face.] I should have warned you. If anything had happened... [He could never forgive himself.]

But nothing did happen. And...that should be the focus. You saved my life, you should focus on that, too.

I like your place.

It shouldn't have been in danger in the first place.

[He snorts a rather humorless laugh at the rather absurd comment. She's just suffered through a life and death experience and she's commenting on his decor?] You really are quite impossible, aren't you?

But...really, if you think about it, it's in danger~ every day. From crazy drivers or choking or...whatever. This was just a closer brush with demise.

Yes, well. You can be too.

[His smile becomes more genuine.] I certainly hope so.

Well, I suppose I should... escort you home? [He makes no move to get up, simply waiting for a definite answer before making any unwanted assumptions.]

Do you want me to leave? Because then...yeah, your escorting would be appreciated.

[No. No, he doesn't, but neither does he want her to get hurt on his account either. He keeps his eyes firmly on the tabletop, running his finger over a chip on the edge.] I... I don't want to see your hurt.

But... If you're willing, I would prefer it if you'd stay. At least for a little while longer. You'd be most welcome, in fact. [It isn't really very hard to see how lonely he is, not when the evidence is all around her. All over the walls are hours, even days of works, where he's been left to his own devices with nothing but his thoughts to occupy him.]

I won't go off anywhere else, so I can get into trouble. And if anyone comes here...well, there are plenty of places for me to hide. I'm small.

I'd like to stay. I mean, I could even stay the night. Your handkerchief...well with it folded in enough layers it'll be the perfect little bed, and all. Are those your stories?

I'm sure we could arrange something better. [He responds by straightening out of the chair, giving the pages littering the walls a brief glance, almost as though he's just remembered about them.] Oh. Yes, some of them. Works in progress, you might say.

[Not just pages of stories, mind you. There're whole pages of notes, ideas, potential characters, unfinished dialog, a complete visual mish-mash of his thought process. In fact, he doubts anyone else could make sense of it all.]

Oh, no I wouldn't want you to go to any trouble. I'm sure it'd do fine. You should walk me through some of them.

Please, it will be about as much trouble as making a cup of tea. [He stands, rubbing the back of his head, the other hand on his hip.] Well, it's difficult to know where to start.

[He moves closer to the wall, indicating a particular page.] Here, you see, is the middle of the twelfth chapter of a medical drama. While over here -- [He steps over to the right, turning back to her.] Are my notes for an Elizabethan play. Still in production, I'm afraid. Casting is a nightmare.

Ah, well I suppose it's only fair that you should have to go through it, then. That's...huh. You think a lot, huh? Well~ if you ever want to put on Thumbalina I'll star for you.

It's... difficult to stop, sometimes. [He smiles down at her at that, shrugging noncomittally.] Or we could fashion you with a pair of wings. You did say you liked to fly.

And you channel it, your thoughts, into writing, or do you have other outlets? I went as Tinkerbell once for Halloween.

As much as I enjoy other mediums, I haven't even a modicum of talent for them. Anyway, that's quite enough about me -- [He sits himself back down, resting his chin on his palm.] Especially when I know next to nothing about you.

I'll have to try to get you to show me more, eventually. Ask away.

Alright. [To spare her neck any further discomfort, he leans forward to cross his arm on the table, resting his chin on top of them.] Do you have a family?