Slowly, Marcoulf turns a degree farther - looking not at Benedict, but toward the door of the dormitories as if expecting to see a series of guards posted there that he had miraculously bypassed without noticing. Or a cadre of armed individuals in hot pursuit. Or, or, or--

When neither reveals themselves, and when no one jumps out from behind a bunk to shout 'Surprise! Isn't this a hilarious joke?', he rotates back. His attention narrows like a knife point of the young man and his hand resumes the unbuttoning of his coat.

"Who else knows you to be here?"