[There is a moment in which Ben can clearly hear the snap of bone in his mind. He can feel the grinding crunch of vertebrae, peculiar from other bones and how they fracture, beneath his palm and he can compensate for the sudden heaviness of a body no longer holding itself up.

Ben has never been vengeful, never been a creature of hate, but in that moment he knows that if Hannibal were here in front of them, nothing and no one would be able to save him from the X5.

Outwardly, he is silent and still, only his narrowed eyes giving him away. He is not angry with Abigail. He is not disappointed, he is not disgusted - he has failed her. Abysmally. That is how he knows that despite the difficulty of the promise she's asking from him, despite the acrid taste it leaves behind in his mouth to consider it, he knows he must make it. He must try.

Finally Ben takes a step forward and drops, smoothly, into a compact crouch; he keeps his knees together, folds his arms on his tabletopped thighs, and folds down and down until he can rest his chin on his crossed forearms. From here, he tries to find Abigail's eyes.]

I can't promise not to harm him at all. If it becomes necessary in your defense, or in the defense of another Barge passenger, I will not hesitate; if we are set at odds by the situations that arise aboard the Barge and I do not know myself, I cannot stop.

But I will not harm him idly, nor will I exert more force than strictly necessary, to the best of my ability.