Through the half-orchestra in his ear, Angel heard something. He didn't move, but cast his eyes in William's direction. Like a feline, moving toward something it was after, or coming to inspect something it was still interested in. He smiled a little when the man spoke. True it wasn't exactly a friendly way of acting, but he'd accepted the general offering from Angel. It was a step in the right direction, at least. Something that rekindled that hope that maybe they'd become friends. "That's fine with me." He said before William started reading. "I've finished it dozens of times, one of my favorites." And in the original script. He'd seen other versions with 'updated' writing, so people could understand it. If they only took the time to read and at the very least try to understand what was written. Because after a while, it was as easy as breathing.

He sighed lightheartedly, happy that some step---regardless of how small---had been taken forward. He'd have to speak of this in a text so that William didn't become irate if Angel talked about him, or at least take those particular phone calls outside the room. He finished his little drawing, laughing at how shaky it had turned out---a terrible little sketch of a person he'd never seen before, perhaps from his own imagination. Perhaps his rendition of Hamlet's appearance. Angel glanced at his watch again. If he just stopped counting the seconds... How would he survive two whole years of this if he couldn't wait until evening came on the first day?