Perhaps one can blame it on the charged, nervous energy this conversation has imbued in Benedict, but he abruptly and irrationally finds himself loathing this man, with his noncommittal hums and his silent but obvious judgment pulsing under the surface.
He feels a compulsion to lash out at Laurentius, but stills it with a tight, joyless smile and a nod in the affirmative. A little optimism, yes. That's just the thing that's needed here.