Falling silent to listen, Benedict's face is morose, his elbows folded over his drawn-up knees.
His mother is a monster. He knows this, he's known it for a long time, even if he couldn't admit it. Typically, the only time he can is when it's put him in trouble.

Most telling, she isn't here. He may be stupid, but she isn't.

He sighs in resignation, angling his head as much against Colin's shoulder as he can, though the bars largely block it. What is there to say? He's been had. His whole life. And now it's over.