[ the most common place to find someone if they want to be alone is in their room, right?

wrong.

because william has taken refuge in the gardens, near a patch of roses, cigarette in hand. he's running out of these handmade cigarettes - he's probably going to have to make more tomorrow or this coming week - but he's been chain smoking his remaining stash enough to smell obviously like smoke.

if he hears footsteps, he'll glance up, but unlike previous times, he's definitely less social than usual - you won't get a cigarette offer, but he won't turn away anyone who wants to sit in companionable silence. or talk.

hope you don't mind the smoke.

--and even houseplants need to eat, really, so during the later part of the night, when it's a safe bet that most people have retired for the night and only stragglers are left (unless everyone is smashed), he'll make an appearance at the bar. like when he was at the gardens, he's not actively socialising, but he won't turn you down if you want to share a glass of wine with him. ]

[ and after sleeping off that colossal hangover, william can mostly be found in the apothecary, replenishing his stash of cigarettes, or sequestered away in the archives, writing away at large sheets of paper all over one of the reading desks. he's not actively avoiding people, but there's also a tired, melancholic air that seems to hang around him.

maybe it's just that hangover.

bring him food and water, interrupt him, that kind of thing. ]