There's a sense they're talking past each other. Benedict cants his head uncertainly, narrowing his eyes at Edgard like he can't quite pin what he wants to say. Maybe he's misunderstood.
"...why did you call Colin 'Maman'?" If Edgard thinks they were just fooling around, there's nothing to worry about.
Benedict watches after him for a moment, then turns around to go back up the stairs, trying to be as poised about it as possible for someone whose ass hurts.
He'll see Colin standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed and a smile on his face. He gestures into the room with his head.
Seeming a little smaller as he comes in, Bene ducks his head slightly to rub the back of his neck, as if he's afraid to look Colin in the eye just now. Going forward into the room, he flops stomach-down onto a couple of pillows.
"Did I really?" he asks, and he's not being coy: it sounds like he actually means it.
Colin closes the door and sits down by him. "Of course. This isn't all just punishment for doing bad things. It's also rewarding for doing good things. And you took the spanking without com--without whining, then gave a sincere apology to Edgard."
Accepting the hose with one hand, Benedict takes the opportunity to finally rub his backside with the other, wincing.
"It wasn't that bad," he half-lies, but his sheepish smile betrays him. "...the way you were looking at me after he left, I was afraid I'd come back to a second round."
"Poor thing," Bene mocks, and takes a long pull, sinking down further onto the cushions as he exhales.
"I mean. ...yes and no." His cheek mushes into the pillow as he talks, lounging splayed across the pile like a lazy cat.
"I didn't like it, it hurt. But I also sort of..." He blushes, "...thought about how upset you'd be, if I didn't do what you said. Not that you have to hit anyone for that, but."
He shifts position again, clearly struggling to get comfortable.
"Well we need to have a code of conduct. Set rules for us both defining what sort of thing is and isn't something that can be punished this way. If we could just...make it so I can't...do it the wrong way."
"Oh." Colin blinks. "Maybe like...being rude. That's something you want me to spank you for. But if you just make me angry, I can't spank you then, not just because I'm angry at you."
"Oh." He takes another pull from the hose and blows it out gently, thinking. It's an increasingly awkward conversation, and part of him wants to pull back on it-- this isn't something normal people talk about, right?-- but then, he has done nothing but prove recently that he hasn't reached Normal yet.
"That makes sense," he says mildly, watching Colin as he follows this train of thought.
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With an exasperated sigh, Benedict pushes his hair back out of his face. Fine, maybe he feels a little bad, but just a little.
"...maybe just don't tell anyone about it," he mumbles, lowering his voice considerably.
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“Why?” He turns around and looks up now. “I won’t.” He reassures him. “But, why?”
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"...because--"
His face begins to flush, at least as much as it can for one of his complexion.
"--well because it's. Private." Did he just show his hand by accident?
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“Alright.” He says. “Just nothing wrong with it, that’s all.”
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Maybe he's misunderstood.
"...why did you call Colin 'Maman'?" If Edgard thinks they were just fooling around, there's nothing to worry about.
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“He’s Sunbeam’s Maman.” He says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
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"All right," he concedes, and sounds rather relieved. Then he starts to turn back, his mind shifting gears entirely.
...and then he turns toward Edgard again.
"You know," he says, with more confusion than malice, "...if you're that sensitive about it, why don't you just clean yourself more?"
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“I just—don’t seem to be fitting in very well.” He waves his hand like he’s swatting the thought away and turns to go.
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At that, Benedict actually seems to feel a shred of remorse.
"Well it's-- I was just--" He fights with the words for a moment, then sighs. "...I panicked. I said it just to hurt you. So you'd leave."
It hasn't been one of his prouder days, on the whole.
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"Excuses acceptées" He says in Orlesian. "Be nice to Maman."
And heads down the stairs.
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Benedict watches after him for a moment, then turns around to go back up the stairs, trying to be as poised about it as possible for someone whose ass hurts.
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"I lit the hookah," he says. "You earned it."
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"Did I really?" he asks, and he's not being coy: it sounds like he actually means it.
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He takes a hose and passes it to Bene.
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"It wasn't that bad," he half-lies, but his sheepish smile betrays him. "...the way you were looking at me after he left, I was afraid I'd come back to a second round."
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"Not sure if that would've been a good idea," he says, "but I'm glad I didn't have to decide."
He takes a hose with his left hand and takes a long, slow drag.
"You really want this?" he asks, smoke puffing from his mouth.
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"I mean. ...yes and no." His cheek mushes into the pillow as he talks, lounging splayed across the pile like a lazy cat.
"I didn't like it, it hurt. But I also sort of..." He blushes, "...thought about how upset you'd be, if I didn't do what you said. Not that you have to hit anyone for that, but."
He shifts position again, clearly struggling to get comfortable.
"...I mean, it's a bit hard to forget about."
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"I'd want a lot of rules," he says. "For me. I'm scared I'd hurt you and you'd not say anything because you'd think you deserved it."
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"I'm being stupid again, aren't I?"
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"That makes sense," he says mildly, watching Colin as he follows this train of thought.
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