"Lunch, then." Colin pats Bene on the shoulder fondly, letting the touch linger a moment before letting him back out the door. After a long, bleak mission, having a little human touch that isn't work-related is just the ticket. "See you then."
At the appointed time, they meet in the hookah room. Not to smoke, but because it's a default escape for them. Colin has brought Bene a serving of his famous paella and sets it before him with a smile.
Benedict is smoking, but just a cigarette by the window rather than sprawling with the hookah. He perks up when Colin enters, giving a little gasp of delight when he smells what he's holding.
"I know," Colin says nonchalantly, with no real ego behind it. He sits nearby and starts to dig into his own portion. "So, what's happened since I went?"
The way Colin's eyes widen is because he's genuinely in awe. Fighting a dragon is on a lot of peoples' bucket list. To him, it's something to be admired at a distance.
"So you're a dragon-slayer now," he says, a little smile creeping onto his face and an eyebrow lifting.
"Thank you." His smile is warm, if evasive-- for someone who loves attention, it's surprisingly hard for him to take credit for his part in all this.
"Jone wanted me to go. And this new rifter, Gabranth, um... it was sort of his idea too. His title is Judge Magister, where he comes from. When we first met I thought he was. You know."
"...Oh." Colin looks a smidge concerned. If he were in Bene's position, he'd have been startled right out of his skin until he realized the truth. "That must have been sort of awful."
Pausing to chew another bite, Benedict's brow furrows as he recollects the incident.
"But we cleared it up. And he was... really adamant about personally overseeing my training." The smile returns, in the form of an uncertain smirk, "it's... it's kind of nice."
What is Gabranth teaching him? Combat, sort of, but it's more nebulous than that, which he realizes at this moment, staring through Colin as he thinks about it.
When his eyes refocus, his mouth hangs open for a second and he says, "how to be less of a fuckup."
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At the appointed time, they meet in the hookah room. Not to smoke, but because it's a default escape for them. Colin has brought Bene a serving of his famous paella and sets it before him with a smile.
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"Oh! You're the best!"
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He couldn't be prouder; not only leaving the Gallows, but doing something useful with it, has bolstered his spirits.
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"So you're a dragon-slayer now," he says, a little smile creeping onto his face and an eyebrow lifting.
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"Dickerson and I were behind a rock the whole time, casting at it. Everyone else did the real work."
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"So you're part of a dragon-slaying team, then," he allows. "Congratulations."
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"Jone wanted me to go. And this new rifter, Gabranth, um... it was sort of his idea too. His title is Judge Magister, where he comes from. When we first met I thought he was. You know."
He gestures vaguely, "a Magister."
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Pausing to chew another bite, Benedict's brow furrows as he recollects the incident.
"But we cleared it up. And he was... really adamant about personally overseeing my training." The smile returns, in the form of an uncertain smirk, "it's... it's kind of nice."
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He shrugs a shoulder lackadaisically. "But it feels different now."
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He trails off as he decides not to bring up anything they've tried in bed.
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If his mind went there, Benedict doesn't show it, without a smirk or an eyebrow waggle to be found.
"...maybe I was ready for it this time."
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When his eyes refocus, his mouth hangs open for a second and he says, "how to be less of a fuckup."