Bill hadn't yet actually seen any of the Reoccurred in person; pictures in the paper and writing back and forth to people in journals was not significant preparation. At the sight of Fred yawning and crinkling up his face like it was just any other bloody morning, Bill felt all the air being forced out of his lungs. He wasn't sure why subconciously he'd been expecting... well, George's mirror image, the way they'd always been, only of course with the additional ear. But Fred looked so bloody young. Exactly the way he'd looked the day they'd closed the casket and put him in the ground, except with colour in his face and... well, considerably dressed down.
"Fred," he breathed, taking an instinctive step forward, but made himself stop just in time. He gripped the back of a nearby chair instead, holding back a wave of emotion as best as he possibly could, struggling for words. "You're really... I... bloody hell."