William, shoving down his uneasiness and the back-breaking stomach pains with an unusual hardness, stood, ready to speak. He opened his mouth just as the doors smashed opened, startling him. He spun around with speed that he didn't previously possess; somewhere inside him, the human William cried out, feeling itself slipping away.

Shortly after the newcomer's speech and Viorcia's rebuttal, William stood in the middle, wide-eyed, unsure of what to do in a very tense, electric situation. He stood there, unconsciously swaying a little similar as to what perhaps Cap'n Jack Sparrow might do, and then mumbled uncertainly, 

[i][b]"YeahI'mjustreallythirstyI'mgonnatakeadrinknow..."[/b][/i]

And he reached across the table to the closest bowl, grabbed the nearest cup, and very quickly, carefully poured himself a nice cup of fresh blood. He shivered inwardly, and despite the intoxicating smell and the hunger that seemed to begin to boil inside him, he stared at the cup in an almost suspicious, frightened stare. He knew, somehow, that once he took the first step, he wouldn't be human again. He would die refusing to be... whatever. 

He lifted it up, stopped again, and then drank. At this point, all thoughts of the very hostile atmosphere was gone, and even Vanity's deep drinking and ruination of the dress was unable to catch his attention. He stared uncertainly at the cup, and then mumbled again, [b]"Ladies first..."[/b]

He pulled his face away from the cup, walked partway around the table and set it in front of Evelyn. Then he poured another cup, and set it in front of the shier, withdrawn girl, and then another, and set it in front of the feisty one. 

Then, with what little was left in the bowl that he had used, he sated a portion of his appetite. 

Then again, it was an American-type appetite, and there wasn't much left. He barely even remember drinking anything at all, since he was now sprawled in the chair that he had returned to, and had practically forced himself to lie still, refusing to give in to the full effect of the unnatural euphoria that came over him. After several moments, his squeezed-shut eyes opened again, a half-glassy look in them like had drunk a bit of alcohol, and was still halfway through his third or fourth. He sat up, gazed sightlessly at another bowl of blood, promptly picks it up with a zombie-like way, and drinks it. All. Slowly, deep gulping swallows, just drinking. And drinking.

The William inside cried, knowing that someone died to fill those two bowls.