Um, right. [an uncomfortable silence follows, maybe just a beat too long, at that first observation. Octavius uncomfortably clears his throat, then latches onto that second question.]
I do, yes, [said earnestly, like he is trying (and failing) to rein in just how emotionally invested he is in this the safe return of at least one of these captives. another moment of hesitation--he remembers what was told to him, of Benedict running afoul of Flint--but, as his recent forays into subterfuge have revealed, he's never been any good at telling lies.] Benedict Artemaeus. He was my father's apprentice, years ago. [pause.] He was my friend.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
I do, yes, [said earnestly, like he is trying (and failing) to rein in just how emotionally invested he is in this the safe return of at least one of these captives. another moment of hesitation--he remembers what was told to him, of Benedict running afoul of Flint--but, as his recent forays into subterfuge have revealed, he's never been any good at telling lies.] Benedict Artemaeus. He was my father's apprentice, years ago. [pause.] He was my friend.