[It is strange, granted, to imagine that someone with such a privileged and particular air as Benedict should not own many things-- less strange to imagine that he'd guard jealously what he does own, as that's not unprecedented for the wealthy, but there is instead something desperate in how he hangs onto the few material objects he's been able to procure since starting over.

He senses that he's snapped at Edgard, and his instinct is to withdraw; it's humiliating, for several reasons.]

I'll show you where, [he grunts in agreement, and then turns off his crystal. He needs a moment.]