#lmao the first 15 minutes of Ben and James going out for drinks would just be them resting in silence and thinking about where their lives

[smiletimeisrunningout]

"It was Randall, you know him. Knew." Not closely, maybe, but he wasn't a complete stranger. And yet, she hadn't even flirted with the man, she hadn't been looking for companionship at camp, even when free to move because Washington didn't have to respond to her parents about her safety anymore - she had made sure it would be clear to both parties that her safety was back in her hands so that there would be no fallout for the patriots if she were to die - she'd go find someone out of camp for that sort of dalliance.

"You can't protect me every second, you are not guarding me while giving me safe passage somewhere, this is just... camp and it's night, I was only in the blockage because I couldn't sleep or I'd have been in bed. He's still with the horses. I called James, officer Gold, so I could come tell you myself. There is no time to patch me up, I'm sure now you have a lot more work to do because of what I did..." this time her tone was as dejected as she felt, and she looked down while clutching at her cloak to do the opposite of showing him, because the necessary information had been given, now all there was left was consequences: "I am so sorry. I promised I wouldn't make your life harder when I first arrived here, and that I'd follow the rules, and wouldn't..."

She shook her head, speaking slowly so she could somewhat control the tremble in her voice: "I tried to hold back, but that's exactly how I got hurt, and then my instincts kicked in..." She always did her very best to keep her word, and to have broken one she had given Ben, who was so dear to her, who already worked so hard to keep things smooth at camp with little if no praise at times... Of course Randall deserved death, she stood by that, but there were appropriate ways to go about that.

Abruptly, Benjamin's eyes snapped up toward her face. "Who?" he demanded. He hated the slight quiver in his voice -- hated the break of vulnerability where stark, searing rage boiled quietly underneath. "I want a name, Swan -- I want his rank and purpose here in this camp."

Emma was sorry... Why in God's name was she sorry?

"No, I am," he denied. "Part of my appointed duty is to protect you...and I failed on this night."

Swallowing, he rose and fetched the first aid kit he kept hidden underneath his bed, the small wooden box weighing heavily along with his guilt as he returned to her side. Kneeling down, he opened the kit and sifted until he retrieved a roll of gauze. "Is the blood yours?" he asked. There was a certain lack of emotion in his tone; by this point in war, Benjamin was accustomed to such indifference towards human life, and yet in this instance, he was attempting such calm for her sake rather than his own.

Lifting his eyes to hers, he frowned. "I know you're hurt, Swan, so don't bother denying it. Just show me where, and I'll help you patch up."