"For all the shit he talks, I think he knows what he could expect to lose by killing anyone," he reasons, gesturing lightly as he makes his point, "I don't think he'll kill anyone. Not on purpose, at least. He's a rude bastard, but he's not a total idiot."
Bene falls silent for a moment, reaching for the hose as he contemplates the situation. He doesn't want to allow Leander any leeway, not after the run-ins they've had; but he doesn't want Colin to be upset, either.
"...but she didn't," he admits, "and people know about it now. I don't think he'll be allowed a chance to push someone else."
He doesn't continue. He has no idea how to vocalize his feelings right now, and at the moment, he really doesn't want to hassle with the self-scrutiny for it. It all feels too close.
"I wanted you to know. He's got a way of making you think you're the one unfairly judging him, but he's dangerous."
"You can't do that by pleasing him." He adjusts himself so one shoulder can press against Bene's. "Though the good news is I don't think he finds us especially interesting, nor is it in his best interests to just be violent now that he's known to have attacked two people unprovoked. One of whom is a division head."
Colin takes the hose but doesn't puff right away, staring up at the ceiling and weighing how high he already is.
He's scared. But he's always scared. He has come to realize that he truly can't tell the difference between a real threat and an imagined one, but that hasn't eliminated the need to try. So he tries to work it out by looking at the facts. It's not the most reliable system--he'd told himself all sorts of things so he could ignore the warning signs with Lutair. He finally pops the hose in his mouth and inhales deeply.
"Makes me think too much," he admits with a sigh of smoke. "You know how when you were a kid, you knew there were dangers in the world, but you reckoned the world as a whole wasn't out to get you?"
The analogy might strike a nerve with most people, but for someone whose early life was very insulated from anything even close to uncomfortable, Benedict finds it coming up a bit short. He glances toward Colin, not necessarily agreeing, but still listening.
"When I was a kid, my sisters and I were taught not to wander off with any strangers because we lived in a port city and they might be slavers. Just as an example. But we believed if we followed that rule and looked out for each other, we'd be safe."
"Then you get older, follow all the rules, and they're not keeping you safe. Worse, sometimes you find it's a choice between being kind to someone who might need it while risking your safety, or being safe but cruel. Wanting to give someone like Leander a chance, inviting him into your home, acknowledging you'd jumped to conclusions. Thinking instead of fear, you could have peace and possibly a new friend."
"Unless I'm mistaken, I don't think he cares enough about you for that to be any kind of deciding factor. He'll be the same whether you've forgiven him or not."
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"For all the shit he talks, I think he knows what he could expect to lose by killing anyone," he reasons, gesturing lightly as he makes his point, "I don't think he'll kill anyone. Not on purpose, at least. He's a rude bastard, but he's not a total idiot."
It takes one to know one, after all.
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Bene falls silent for a moment, reaching for the hose as he contemplates the situation. He doesn't want to allow Leander any leeway, not after the run-ins they've had; but he doesn't want Colin to be upset, either.
"...but she didn't," he admits, "and people know about it now. I don't think he'll be allowed a chance to push someone else."
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"I know. I just, um."
He doesn't continue. He has no idea how to vocalize his feelings right now, and at the moment, he really doesn't want to hassle with the self-scrutiny for it. It all feels too close.
"I wanted you to know. He's got a way of making you think you're the one unfairly judging him, but he's dangerous."
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"I know." His lips purse as he reflects on the interactions he's had with Leander.
"I've tried to just... make myself stop caring what he thinks, or does. I have too much at stake to worry about pleasing him."
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"You don't want to please him, you want to pacify him. So you're safe."
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"...I want him to leave me alone. ...I want him to leave all of us alone."
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This must have been in the Dungeon Times.
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That's going to be a conversation, whether anyone likes it or not.
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"Just be careful. But don't be scared, either. I don't really think he'd admit to this if he was planning to keep pushing people down the stairs."
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"I'm not scared. And I try to be careful."
He hands the hose back, settling in with his fingers clasped over his chest.
"Just..." He chews his lower lip. "Makes you think. That's all."
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He's scared. But he's always scared. He has come to realize that he truly can't tell the difference between a real threat and an imagined one, but that hasn't eliminated the need to try. So he tries to work it out by looking at the facts. It's not the most reliable system--he'd told himself all sorts of things so he could ignore the warning signs with Lutair. He finally pops the hose in his mouth and inhales deeply.
"Makes me think too much," he admits with a sigh of smoke. "You know how when you were a kid, you knew there were dangers in the world, but you reckoned the world as a whole wasn't out to get you?"
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He glances toward Colin, not necessarily agreeing, but still listening.
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"Never mind. Let's talk about something else."
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Colin was clearly trying to make a point, and this won't be the first time Benedict's overall obliviousness has interfered.
"--go on."
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"When I was a kid, my sisters and I were taught not to wander off with any strangers because we lived in a port city and they might be slavers. Just as an example. But we believed if we followed that rule and looked out for each other, we'd be safe."
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It's not terrible reasoning. One might say Colin did the same thing with him, after all.
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Benedict narrows his eyes.
"Unless I'm mistaken, I don't think he cares enough about you for that to be any kind of deciding factor. He'll be the same whether you've forgiven him or not."
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"...because some people worked for your forgiveness?" He looks to him with pensive caution. "And actually care a lot what you think of them?"
Whoof, this is hard to say aloud.
"If you forgive anyone no matter what, is your forgiveness even worth anything? Like." Self-consciously, he tucks a strand of hair behind one ear.
"Doesn't that just make you a doormat? Why would anyone bother trying to make it better if they knew it didn't matter either way?"
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