That's not where he thought this was going to go. A pang in Benedict's chest as Gabranth turns away without elaborating, leaving him to the racing of his own mind and the impossible feat of finding any comfort in all this.

"Wait," he says faintly, and his face has gone a bit pale, drawn and tired from the ordeal. "Don't... don't leave."

His fingers flex at his sides.

"I want to make it right." That Edgard and Jone are still here only makes him all the more conscious of how thin his voice sounds, how small he feels.