Benedict's energy seems to have drained from him as silence falls over them at last; he hasn't got any banter in him, hasn't on this topic for a long time. A sense of humor about oneself is necessary, but when the joke is just You, it gets tired. Roi des lâches, he'd been called once-- by a friend, at a party, within his earshot.
"Now you know." A furtive glance to Strange, insecurity creeping through, for all that it matters: he doesn't want to be hated or scorned, but it comes as naturally to him as insects to a spiderweb.
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Benedict's energy seems to have drained from him as silence falls over them at last; he hasn't got any banter in him, hasn't on this topic for a long time. A sense of humor about oneself is necessary, but when the joke is just You, it gets tired. Roi des lâches, he'd been called once-- by a friend, at a party, within his earshot.
"Now you know." A furtive glance to Strange, insecurity creeping through, for all that it matters: he doesn't want to be hated or scorned, but it comes as naturally to him as insects to a spiderweb.