Ever so calmly, the elf strides over to the bed he has now marked for his own, taking a seat there as he shoots Benedict a chilly glance.

"If the scent of perfume and cleanliness bothers you so greatly," he drones, gathering his long white hair back over his shoulder again with a practiced motion, "Then I suppose you may be in for a few difficult nights while you grow accustomed."

There isn't anything wrong with the young man's hygiene, of course - but should he wish to be pointed about this, Diabhall can give a bit back.