His hand stilling on a new stack, Benedict takes his time absorbing the question, staring-- somehow, only just now for the first time, it strikes him that he has not made plans. A familiar little surge of unease tightens within his chest, and he purses his lips a moment, thinking how best to answer.

Nobody wants to witness a full anxiety meltdown during a casual conversation.

"Not," he says clumsily, "not-- solidly, no." He turns back to smile at Cedric, but in place of reassurance there's a distant fear in his eyes, the face of a prey animal unsure if it's been spotted.