faderift | [open]

Her remark yields a sheepish smile. "Well," he murmurs, "if it makes you feel better, I'm a worse one."

Refinished. Even after all that. Benedict winces. "How's, um... Colin doing."

She shrugs. Unhelpful.

"Do you actually care or do you just miss having someone visit?"

And harsh, sure. But someone's gotta be the tough one, if Colin's idea of tough is just...avoidance. Athessa crosses her arms and arches a brow, not exactly looking stern, but looking like whatever his answer, she'll be skeptical.

The question stops Bene in his tracks, and he looks at her woundedly, but then seems to just... resign. He rests back against the wall and furrows his brow, measuring his answer and only looking more and more disquieted as he does.

"...I don't know."

At least it's more thoughtful than a yes or no, even if it's barely better than not answering at all. Athessa sighs again and toes the ground, looking at the floor but keeping her arms crossed.

"I wanna know what you think our motivations were," she says when she looks back up at him. "For even trying to get your box back."

Benedict frowns, keeping his gaze lowered. He's hurting from being left alone, but is also smart enough to be able to draw a correlation between how he behaved toward his... friends?... and their absence.
"...to cheer me up," he says miserably, "and stick it to Leander, I guess."

"That's why Colin did it," she agrees, then hedges. "Well, part of it, anyway. But I didn't do it to cheer you up."

She tips her head to one side. He looks miserable, she thinks. But that could just be his face now; she hasn't exactly seen him not-miserable in a good long while.

"I got you the paint to cheer you up, and the joke book. The box was because it seemed like the right thing to do."

Being in a dungeon has that way of affecting a person. But he's intrigued by what she says, and he turns to look at Athessa with no small amount of uncertainty.

"How so?"

"Colin told me what happened--what Leander did," She doesn't want to think too much on it, because in her mind it becomes conflated with her own experiences, and she won't be able to get past that hurt and rage. "And why the box was important to you. And...the idea that he was keeping it as some kind of trophy just...It reminded me of those nobles who mount the heads of animals on their walls. Like you weren't a person, you were just the prize won at sport."

Her revulsion is clear on her face, and in her words as she realizes that she's clenching her jaw. Taking a moment, she forces her expression to clear and relaxes a little, leaning against the bars.

"It's not right to treat anyone that way, not even a traitor."

After all this, Benedict's feelings on Leander have become more complicated than what Colin and Athessa seem to have united over-- not that he faults them for it, and he can't help but wonder, in the back of his mind, if he's being a fool. But that doesn't change her intentions as she's stated them, and it's difficult not to feel touched by that.

"Well," he says quietly, afraid to look at her in case they get in another row, "..thank you." It sounds sincere and unsarcastic, if understated.

Hadn't she said she didn't do it for him? Well... whatever. She shrugs the shoulder that isn't against the bars.

"You're welcome, I guess," She glances sidelong at him, mouth quirking. "Dominus." It's a joke, a playful jab, especially with him in there and her out here, with enough space to grab a bar and let her whole weight hang at an angle, swinging freely.

He's thanking her for acknowledging he's still a person, if nothing else. Sometimes it's just nice to hear, not that he'd let her know that and ruin it.
...not that she already hasn't, and he winces when he hears that name again, but then looks at her and notices the shine in her eye.

"...shut up," he says with a tiny smirk, feeling his way carefully into the joke.

Athessa chuckles, and after a moment stops her idle swinging.

"Anyway," That's them made up, in so many words. "You really ought to think about who Colin is to you, and whether or not you wanna earn how he's treated you."

Her expression when she looks at him is one of sympathy, sort of. But also disappointment, sort of. Like That's rough buddy but if the shoe fits...

He knows that look, because it's the same one Colin was giving him right before Benedict emptied his arsenal and immediately regretted it. So although he puffs up for a moment, aggravated, he forces himself to calm down and settles into something more like a quiet sulk.

"I don't. Know," he admits, at least trying to use his words, "...I don't know how."

“Don’t know how to think about it?” Her brows knit together and she looks, clearly confused, for confirmation or denial.

After a moment's hesitation, Benedict shrugs and looks at her. Yeah, kind of.

She might not be the best person to be having this conversation, but...well, she’s the only one here.

“I mean...you do know how to think, right?”

"I mean--" Bene interjects, and waves his hands helplessly, "it always-- seems like a trap, is the thing. I'll think I have the right answer, but then someone calls me an idiot again, or gets angry, and..."
His hands drop to his sides.
"I know I fucked up. I got under his skin, and it was stupid. I couldn't just stop myself and shut up."

“It only seems like a trap because you only think about things like you,” she says. She might not be good at thinking like a spy, which Yseult made clear, but she can at least understand other people. Usually. “Remember when we first met?”

He scowls, and sighs, and a blush tinges his cheeks. "Yes," he replies sullenly, bracing himself for it.

“Can you understand why I threw the book at you?”

"Yes," in the same furtive tone.

“So the way to avoid getting books thrown at you isssss—?” She raises her eyebrows. It’s really a gamble whether or not he’ll pick up on the metaphor here. The books aren’t always literal books.

"Don't say stupid things to people that will hurt them?" he mutters, "I knew that already." Pausing, his brow twitches into more of a scowl.
"...I mean, I'm bad at it, but I know."

“By thinking about how what you say could hurt them before you say it. Like, Hmm, if I ask Athessa if being a slave would be a bad thing, how would that make her feel?” For that, she lowers her vocal register and approximates his accent, tapping her chin in thought for effect. “Since when you asked, you couldn’t really have known how easily that could’ve happened, simply knowing that it’d feel bad would be enough.”

He’s just lucky that she’s more interested in understanding why he’s such a walnut than in getting well and truly offended.

“What did you say to Colin that made him leave?”

A sulky shrug follows, probably in agreement based on the rest of the conversation. But when Colin comes up again, Benedict first goes very still, then slumps a little lower.

"He accused me of abandoning people," he mumbles, directing his gaze to the floor, "and, um. I. Said he was just mad. Because he's in love with me."

He doesn't dare look at her now.

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