"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?”
“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.
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’s missing out on her eyebrows trying to ascend off of her face and the rapid blinking like she’s trying to get her brain going again. “Okay, so...Well, you clearly know how he feels about you, then, which means you didn’t say it out of ignorance...”
Is there one step past yikes on the face spectrum?
"I don't know!!" Benedict snaps suddenly, lowering his hands, "I don't-- I mean I-- I didn't abandon him, I didn't think about it like that! But..." He winces, the truth fighting to drag itself out despite his best efforts. "...but I guess I don't... think about people? Like I should?" Which is only the entire point of their conversation right now.
A grin practically splits her face in two with how wide it is. Delighted and triumphant and maybe proud but mostly just wickedly surprised that she actually got him to admit to something real and in so many words.
"You just--" No, there's too much here to unpack. "Okay. Okay-okay-okay, you just said, just. Said. That you don't think about people like you should. That was the right answer, but...so keeping that in mind...you...your idea of love is being nice to someone because you want something? You never thought about like, someone being nice for the sake of being nice, or loving someone without any expectation?"
Bene narrows his eyes back at her, like he doesn't quite understand her point.
"Well everyone has expectations," he says, a bit hesitantly, "...otherwise it's, I mean, why bother?" At the very least, he seems to be approaching this assertion with some caution, venturing into it with the creeping realization that it might not be universal.
"No one's... no one's nice for the sake of being nice? If there's nothing they want, there's something tying their hands."
"For the sake of...of trying to understand this...what would you imagine to be...like...what did I want from you when I gave you your Satinalia presents? What was tying my hands, in this...bizarre, hypothetical scenario."
Someone, somewhere, be proud of her for not calling him a fucking moron in this moment. Bards should sing of her patience and posthumously make her a Saint or something.
He doesn't want to have a ready answer, and yet he does. "Maybe so you'd look generous to everyone else." He rests his chin on his knees, at least not on any kind of offensive. "I mean-- I like them. The presents. I'm glad you brought them." Just in case she thought he wasn't grateful.
"--or, or maybe you wanted to feel better about yourself. Because there's nothing I can give you right now." The thought seems to trouble him.
She takes a sharp breath as if in preparation to yell at him, or call him stupid, or something, but she clamps down hard on everything she could think to say and takes a moment, pressing her fist to her mouth.
"You are making this so difficult," she grinds out through clenched teeth and thuds her head against the bars lightly. Deep breath. Calm. He's...just consider him a child! That's...better? "First of all, no. Absolutely neither of those things are true. Especially because everyone else amounts to Flint and Colin. I don't care if either of them see me as generous. And for your information, I feel fine about myself."
One of those questions is an easy answer. The other...she shrugs.
"When I gave you the stuff for Satinalia, I got to see you look less miserable than you'd looked in months. I still don't really know what I get from visiting you, honestly, but...I dunno, I guess at first I wanted to see why you were in here and stuff, and then it seemed like a good way to figure out why you're so thoughtless to other people. And give you a second chance not to be?"
It doesn't really sound like a solid reason, even to her, but it's what she's got. "That, and Colin is stupidly nice, like...incomprehensibly nice, and I know he's not gonna look out for himself enough to not get his feelings hurt, so...I dunno maybe I'm bad-cop and he's good-cop only we're not cops because fuck the cops."
"Thoughtless," Benedict repeats, in a small voice that bears no hostility, and he snuggles the blanket more tightly around himself. Then, gazing at the far wall, he sits with his thoughts for a moment.
"...he's afraid of people hurting him," he muses, "he thinks if he does everything right, goes out of his way to make people happy, maybe they won't." Turning to look at Athessa, Benedict furrows his brow.
"...but it's so easy to hurt him because he's so afraid. That's what he wants. To be spared." He shakes his head, mystified. "But I don't know why he wants it from me."
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“I mean...you do know how to think, right?”
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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."
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"...I mean, I'm bad at it, but I know."
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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?”
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"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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Is there one step past yikes on the face spectrum?
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“Did you...were you...lashing out because he was right and you didn’t want him to be? So you pushed him away because it was easier?”
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He winces, the truth fighting to drag itself out despite his best efforts. "...but I guess I don't... think about people? Like I should?" Which is only the entire point of their conversation right now.
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"And there it is."
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"What? What is it?" he asks, "--nothing makes any sense, I don't know what he even wants from me."
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"You just--" No, there's too much here to unpack. "Okay. Okay-okay-okay, you just said, just. Said. That you don't think about people like you should. That was the right answer, but...so keeping that in mind...you...your idea of love is being nice to someone because you want something? You never thought about like, someone being nice for the sake of being nice, or loving someone without any expectation?"
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"Well everyone has expectations," he says, a bit hesitantly, "...otherwise it's, I mean, why bother?" At the very least, he seems to be approaching this assertion with some caution, venturing into it with the creeping realization that it might not be universal.
"No one's... no one's nice for the sake of being nice? If there's nothing they want, there's something tying their hands."
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Someone, somewhere, be proud of her for not calling him a fucking moron in this moment. Bards should sing of her patience and posthumously make her a Saint or something.
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"Maybe so you'd look generous to everyone else." He rests his chin on his knees, at least not on any kind of offensive. "I mean-- I like them. The presents. I'm glad you brought them." Just in case she thought he wasn't grateful.
"--or, or maybe you wanted to feel better about yourself. Because there's nothing I can give you right now." The thought seems to trouble him.
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"You are making this so difficult," she grinds out through clenched teeth and thuds her head against the bars lightly. Deep breath. Calm. He's...just consider him a child! That's...better? "First of all, no. Absolutely neither of those things are true. Especially because everyone else amounts to Flint and Colin. I don't care if either of them see me as generous. And for your information, I feel fine about myself."
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What has he been doing, then? He always wants attention, but always, on some level, knows it's conditional.
"...what do you get out of it?" he says after a moment, "visiting me, giving me things?"
we'll just pretend cops are a thing
"When I gave you the stuff for Satinalia, I got to see you look less miserable than you'd looked in months. I still don't really know what I get from visiting you, honestly, but...I dunno, I guess at first I wanted to see why you were in here and stuff, and then it seemed like a good way to figure out why you're so thoughtless to other people. And give you a second chance not to be?"
It doesn't really sound like a solid reason, even to her, but it's what she's got. "That, and Colin is stupidly nice, like...incomprehensibly nice, and I know he's not gonna look out for himself enough to not get his feelings hurt, so...I dunno maybe I'm bad-cop and he's good-cop only we're not cops because fuck the cops."
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"...he's afraid of people hurting him," he muses, "he thinks if he does everything right, goes out of his way to make people happy, maybe they won't." Turning to look at Athessa, Benedict furrows his brow.
"...but it's so easy to hurt him because he's so afraid. That's what he wants. To be spared." He shakes his head, mystified. "But I don't know why he wants it from me."
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Somehow she thought she'd have more insight after sharing dreams with the both of them, but--her face lights with a dawning realization.
"You guys fucked, didn't you?"
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