[Ben is looking between Abigail and the pumpkins and back again as she settles, curiosity plain in his gaze. The praise pleases him, relaxing the line of his shoulders, and then he fetches up soundly against the question.
If Abigail doesn't know what she wants to carve, Ben has no clue what he's even supposed to be imagining. Faces, yes, or something else, he doesn't understand fully what falls into an acceptable category and what doesn't; in turn, he thinks for a moment of requesting criteria by which to make an informed decision, but he understands this is meant to be recreational.
[ Private ]
If Abigail doesn't know what she wants to carve, Ben has no clue what he's even supposed to be imagining. Faces, yes, or something else, he doesn't understand fully what falls into an acceptable category and what doesn't; in turn, he thinks for a moment of requesting criteria by which to make an informed decision, but he understands this is meant to be recreational.
Cautiously, he looks back at Abigail.]
I do not have a preference.