Birkin frowned a bit at being told what tone to use. As if this man really scared him. He certainly didn't hold any power over him. Not at this moment, at least. William looked on him as he would any other research subject (even if that wasn't what the man was). His eyes were cold and almost blank, as if they held no feeling.
At the man's question, however, William's gaze faltered a bit. The true answer was that he didn't know. He'd been asleep for... for who knew how long, kept in a glorified "coma" for what could possibly be years (William, at this moment, was still not certain of the date).
But "I don't know" was not a term that William cared to utter. He had never done it before, and he would not do it now.
"Don't think of it in terms of what has been lost," he said, steadily, "but in terms of what Umbrella has gained. I'm certain," he spoke this last bit through clenched teeth, "that any losses Umbrella has suffered they will regain. Aren't you?"