Looking pretty didn't make shit stop but it distracted Will at least a little bit. It was the small things that made him hang on to the possibility he wasn't here forever, or that he could manage one more day.
"Oh, right." Will remembered that day too. After his family had ushered him onto the ferry Will had decided he'd hate every single person in the building, had spent several nights glaring at the ceiling until one day, exhausted and realising he honestly, truly, was stuck here - he cried himself to sleep.
He'd been asked that question before so Will knew he could answer honestly, but he was still unsure how Fisher would take it. With a small shrug Will became interested in his feet. "It makes me feel like a real person. Like I didn't know who I was before, but with this on I feel like - I'm halfway to being who I should be? And I'm more confident. I don't feel as ugly any more."