[Ben trails after her, steps cat-silent in a way he has learned not to indulge in for the most part, and does not try to speak either. He is alert, letting distance from the chapel soothe the buzzing in his mind, carefully keeping an eye on the way his visible skin goes back to normal; he suspects no one else saw what was happening, that it wasn't real. He's still relieved when he rubs his fingertips together and feels only skin against skin and hears nothing.
He tracks the movement of the card with a rail steady gaze for as long as he can see it, and stares at the drawer for several more moments even after it's closed; love, need, love, hate, trust, desperation. It's only when she extends the mask to him that he breaks from it, though it's only muscular reflex that has him accepting it at first.
And then his attention transfers and Ben is studying the mask in his hands. He handles it carefully, even though he can see that it is sturdy, meant to withstand the efforts of someone trying to take it off; that isn't the point. He runs his fingers over the surfaces, the place where the bars over the mouth disappear into the rest of the structure, how the straps are hinged to it. He smells it, smells Abigail faintly, Dillon Cole more strongly, metal and padding and leather and cleaning agents and sweat. It makes him nervous for reasons he couldn't explain, but he doesn't have to.
Looking up at Abigail, his voice is quiet.] Shall I remove it now and come back, or shall I stay? [They aren't done speaking, yet, but Ben doesn't know how much danger she's in being in the presence of the mask.]
[ Spam ]
He tracks the movement of the card with a rail steady gaze for as long as he can see it, and stares at the drawer for several more moments even after it's closed; love, need, love, hate, trust, desperation. It's only when she extends the mask to him that he breaks from it, though it's only muscular reflex that has him accepting it at first.
And then his attention transfers and Ben is studying the mask in his hands. He handles it carefully, even though he can see that it is sturdy, meant to withstand the efforts of someone trying to take it off; that isn't the point. He runs his fingers over the surfaces, the place where the bars over the mouth disappear into the rest of the structure, how the straps are hinged to it. He smells it, smells Abigail faintly, Dillon Cole more strongly, metal and padding and leather and cleaning agents and sweat. It makes him nervous for reasons he couldn't explain, but he doesn't have to.
Looking up at Abigail, his voice is quiet.] Shall I remove it now and come back, or shall I stay? [They aren't done speaking, yet, but Ben doesn't know how much danger she's in being in the presence of the mask.]