Lips pursed in restrained annoyance, Benedict's gaze flits to meet Vandren's: looking for mockery, pretty sure he sees it, but unable to swear on it.

"In a manner of speaking," he says coolly, "but not..."

He trails off a moment, unexpectedly, his eyes going distant. What does he have to gain from lying or being catty about this?

"...we fell out after I came South," he clarifies, finally.