"It won't land," Benedict says, grudgingly, but with a little touch of relief-- Kitty is being shrewish as ever, but at least her rejection of the spirits is so total that their words, apparently, mean nothing to her.

All things considered, that's half the stress of them, at least when they're not trying to murder him.

He presses his back against the nearest wall and lets his head thunk backward, pressing a hand over his forehead and heaving a sigh through his nose. "I don't know how you're so fine with it," he says, somewhat recovered.