It’s a look with which Benedict is familiar, and in his addled state he struggles not to meet his natural impulse head on.

They’re out in public, for one thing, but Vlast is also a bit skittish—- prone to anger, even—- and as thrilling as that would be to prod, perhaps this is neither the place or the time.

Pity.

“What’s the matter?” Bene asks languidly, propping his cheek on one hand. He knows damn well what the matter is, but is offering an out (or an in, frankly).