Will gets away with his sneaky vitals check, because Wilhelm is busy admiring his tattoo all over again. He is, in fact, perfectly fine. Only, his arm is a little sore, having been poked with a needle hundreds of times.

"For the better," he agrees. "It...hasn't always been easy."

A vast understatement. He struggled from the very first day, still grieving his brother and cradling a broken heart, suddenly thrown into a world where everything was new and nothing made sense. He'd been haunted by nightmarish entities and possessed by old gods. He'd watched a city engulfed in flames, watched a town burn, and felt the weight of all those ashes that used to be lives. He'd gone mad in the belly of a mountain, scrabbling for survival amid heaps of corpses that he was terrified of joining, decomposing before he was even dead. He'd lost people he'd gotten used to building his day around.

And nevertheless, he's still here.

"But I think it's because I had to fight so hard that I've made it to where I am."