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He knows, and is enjoying it about as much as she is.
"It's your own heart," he announces, lowering his hand with an unspoken 'you dumbfuck', "what did you do?"
"It's your own heart," he announces, lowering his hand with an unspoken 'you dumbfuck', "what did you do?"
From her perspective, it feels like Bene's hand is on her long enough to fuse there, and when he drops it she's pulled with it, if only slightly. Enough to shuffle a foot forward so as not to stumble. It's also enough, it seems, to hit the reset button on her train of thought, the heartbeat within the wall all but forgotten. When she blinks, it's fluttery, like her eyes are trying to fall into a deep sleep while her body has yet to receive that memo.
"What did I do when?"
"What did I do when?"
"What did you-- take," he manages, but has already given up on the last word at the sight of her fluttering eyelids.
"I think it's time for bed." He places both hands on her shoulders, squinting into her face. "I'm taking you to your room."
"I think it's time for bed." He places both hands on her shoulders, squinting into her face. "I'm taking you to your room."
"Ya think?" he snaps, and turns, looping his arm in hers to try conveying her toward the stairway.
"You're not sick, are you?" The question is half concern, half dread: if she vomits on him he's going to demand reparations.
"You're not sick, are you?" The question is half concern, half dread: if she vomits on him he's going to demand reparations.
Benedict glances her over suspiciously. "Do what?"
He tightens his grip on her arm when she starts to lean.
"No, they look great," he replies in a deadpan, "come on, can you walk up the stairs?"
"No, they look great," he replies in a deadpan, "come on, can you walk up the stairs?"
"I have a feeling you will tonight," he mutters, tugging her up the stairs as best he can.
"Did you eat or drink something? To help you sleep?"
If he gets accused of poisoning Athessa, he's not getting out of it alive.
"Did you eat or drink something? To help you sleep?"
If he gets accused of poisoning Athessa, he's not getting out of it alive.
"Mm," is the sound Bene makes when he purses his lips, eyeing her uncertainly. He has a call to make right now, perhaps quite literally: he's not supposed to have a sending crystal, but he doesn't know what he's dealing with right now, and if Athessa suddenly projectile vomits and sends them both down the stairs to their deaths, he'll be blamed for it.
This is what he gets, for making friends.
So, gingerly, he feels at her neck for where the crystal hangs, and draws the pendant up towards his mouth while they slowly shuffle up the stairs.
"Isaac?"
This is what he gets, for making friends.
So, gingerly, he feels at her neck for where the crystal hangs, and draws the pendant up towards his mouth while they slowly shuffle up the stairs.
"Isaac?"
Athessa says you gave her something to help her sleep, but now she's listening to walls and stumbling around like an insane person.
Edited 2020-08-19 17:50 (UTC)
Benedict could be anywhere, so long as it’s somewhere settled, sitting or working, with the air of someone who intends not to move right away.
And while he’s there, Bastien appears briefly in his line of sight, points at him with a simultaneous finger-snap, ah-ha, and walks away.
Several minutes later, though he’s back with an armful of paper, neatly stacked and separated by blank broadsheets. “I keep forgetting,” he says without preamble, “because of—you know. The war.”
And while he’s there, Bastien appears briefly in his line of sight, points at him with a simultaneous finger-snap, ah-ha, and walks away.
Several minutes later, though he’s back with an armful of paper, neatly stacked and separated by blank broadsheets. “I keep forgetting,” he says without preamble, “because of—you know. The war.”
[ sssigh ]
Get her to lie down. Tomorrow, tell her to stop taking it.
Get her to lie down. Tomorrow, tell her to stop taking it.
It won't hurt her?
[This is the main concern, but it's a good thing Isaac is being so blasé or Benedict would be more worried.]
--come on, pick up your feet.
[This is the main concern, but it's a good thing Isaac is being so blasé or Benedict would be more worried.]
--come on, pick up your feet.
And then fall down the stairs anyway-- pick up your feet--!!
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