[Ben never left. Abigail did - or, more likely, she was taken. She went somewhere he couldn't follow her, though he would have tried, eventually. He likes to think he would have tried, except for the fear that he would be singularly unhelpful where she came from.

She speaks French back to him, exactly as he remembers, and he really does let out a breath. Something behind his eyes warms, not because it only just now came into being, but because he relaxes infinitesimally. It is a little bit safer, for them both.

Some of the rigid formality has worn off the edge of his voice, too, when he speaks - still low, still steady, but with more presence.]

Abigail, are you familiar with the common method for monitoring the spread of poison, or centralized external infection, in carbon-based life forms?