“Anything while you wait?”
“No, thank you. …actually— do you serve orange juice?”
The yellow glass gets glances from every patron that passes his booth, but Ben’s eyes are on his monitor. He’s brought his laptop, expecting Seaworth to be late - which he is - and pulled up his pet project. The lines of births are still too cryptic; missing dates, names, and genders leave gaps in the columns like broken teeth.
He lifts the glass to his lips without looking away. Seaworth is sure to tease him, but forcing himself to gulp down the beer the other man had picked for him on their last outing had left a sour taste in their conversation as much as in his mouth. Juice will keep his head clearer and his wallet heavier. He sets the glass back down onto the coaster and frowns at the screen through his glasses. Seventeen Veniamins, some with alternate spellings, all with information missing. He’s not even certain he was a Veniamin at birth. Rubbing at his eyes, he glances up to the doorway and smiles at a familiar squinting - or scowling, he can never tell - face.
He lifts his glass in salute. “I’ve kept myself both busy and sober,” he says when Seaworth is near enough. “Long trip?”
He spots Ben as soon as he walks in the place - after all, who else would have a laptop and a glass of - is that orange juice? - at a pub.
"Sorry," he apologises, though he’s sure that knowing Ben, his own lateness was already pre-empted. "Some works on the line - slowed everything down a bit."
He pulls a coaster across the table, rests his own drink on it carefully. He eschewed his usual pint, settling for just a half - though Benerro most likely wouldn’t mind, it still makes him a little uncomfortable to drink an entire pint watching someone else sip fruit juice.
"How are you doing, Ben?" He wonders if it’s a loaded question - whether Benerro will find some sort of subtext in it. There isn’t any, not that he’s aware of at least, just a nervous sort of concern.
He’d half expected Ben to reject his offer of meeting again - after all, what is he to the man? A coworker - well, an ex-coworker now perhaps. But that doesn’t seem to be it - he has, despite himself, constructed a certain affection for the other man. He seems lonely, though he talks occasionally about other people (friends?) with whom he interacts in London - perhaps strangers in strange lands can simply recognise their own.
So, er… I heard what happened - with you being let go, I mean. I was just wondering if maybe you neede- if you wanted someone to talk to, or something? I don’t really know details, so, I mean, you don’t have to say yes or anything - but, yeah, so… Yes. Let me know.
womp womp gettin back on the b&g train
anyone wanna thread w/ fatbutt or davos?
message me or something idk
god it has been so long i am the worst human
Seaworth’s voice lowers at mention of his wife, softens, and Benerro hesitates. He doesn’t know how to follow that, what else to say. He’d asked Davos about his family to make him open up; he’s not sure if he’s succeeded. What else could he ask after? He feels like he’s interviewing the man, not chatting with him. Frustrated, he takes another drink of beer. Enough of this and I won’t care what I ask him, Benerro tells himself.
"Admire is probably more accurate," he concedes with a smile and a shrug. "Have you got used to him yet? It’s kind of a shock to the system if you’re not used to him."
He’s well aware of how Stannis comes across - brusque and standoffish. That’s how he comes across because, for the most part, that’s exactly how he is. Though there’s occasions of humanity, they’re usually reserved for Davos himself - perhaps Selyse and Shireen, too. Maybe Melisandre. But never for the general public, and never for most of the people he works with.
Benerro takes another sip of his beer, his mannerism almost irritated - Davos wonders if the lack of conversation stems from the awkward topic of conversation, of family.
"Sorry, perhaps the Marya thing was a little too much to say," he toys with one of the coasters, pushing it back and forth in the condensation from the pint glass. "Not used to candid conversations, you know? I suppose this whole… Incident… Has made me think a little more about that sort of thing. Confronting your own mortality and all that."
It’s alright. ‘Death’ on one hand makes up for nothing on the other.
Retire? [grins] I can’t imagine Baratheon will let you. It’s 4am phone calls until you die. Or he does, but I can’t imagine that would stop him.
[the ‘of course’ is more suspicious than soothing, but he lets it pass] Yes, please.
Hey now! Who’s saying I won’t have ‘love’? I’m a good guy these days.
No, I can’t imagine he will. [he chuckles] Yes, you’re probably right. I’ll get four am phone calls asking why the grass hasn’t been mown at the cemetery yet if he goes first.
[he nods briefly, though he knows Ben cannot see him]
Consider it forgotten.
yo so i got a date about my internet getting installed
11th of October I will be back full time
until then you’ll just have to deal with me either
a) camping out in the central services building of university
b) replying whilst in lectures and stuff
This does mean that I won’t be on skype any time after like, 7pm GMT until I get internet at my place
So if you need me to plot (particularly FM here) feel free to get ahold of me on twitter if you need me straight away b/c I get twitter updates on my phone or just message me on here and I’ll get it at some point during the day
sorry for the inconvenience
i am poop at replying
it probably seems that i am dead to you already anyway
davos laughs to hide the tears xoxox
And ’death’ spelled out on your knuckles.
[laughs] Stannis’ loyal sorceress! Normal hours? You’re showing your age, Seaworth. Us sprightly young things can handle a seven day work week on four hours’ sleep without breaking a sweat.
I don’t plan on doing it again. [cautiously] I hope I didn’t say anything too embarrassing.
Of course. I would’ve gone with ‘love’ and ‘hate’ but I’m a bit lacking in the finger department.
Sorry! Between the whole international arms dealer and then having three kids I’d say I’m done with not getting enough sleep. [He chuckles] When I retire I’ll probably turn into some sort of sloth.
Does anyone really plan to do it? But no, no of course you didn’t. I’ll forget it ever happened, if you like? Save face?