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| Details |
| Author: | inkie |
| Summary: | Ben returns from his confrontation with Vice Admiral Fallon and confesses the situation to Ismene, who decides that what they need is… another confrontation with Vice Admiral Fallon. Wait, no, that wasn't the plan. |
| Rating: | M for Mature 17+ |
Chain: Bizzy
The afternoon is slanting toward evening when Ben returns to Voldrin's Hold from his visit to the Lady Blanche. He ducks into the narrow, dark cabin he and Ismene have been afforded by the Voldrin's officers. There is an uneasy diffidence in his manner: his head is low and shoulders hunched, his movements suggesting he is making his way through a minefield and trying not to wake a baby sleeping on the far side of it.
Ismene sits where the light of a lantern can reach her. She's plying her needle, delicately repairing a loose hem in one of Ben's shirts. For once, she's not adding any decorative frills; his hem remains plain and unadorned with flowers or even swords. She smiles at him as he enters, then stops smiling. "Are you all right?" she asks, needle paused mid-stitch. "You look like you expect me to yell at you for something."
He stops to stare at himself in the tarnished mirror hanging above the basin, and regards Mizzy in her reflection over his shoulder, an indirect gaze. "You might," he says. "Someone might."
It's enough to make her put her sewing aside, needle tucked safely into the fabric. "I wouldn't," she says stoutly. "And I wouldn't let anyone else yell at you, either." She considers. "Well, maybe Sir Elohad and Niris. Why would anyone ever yell at you?"
Ben drops his gaze and then lifts it again. "I hit Vice Admiral Fallon," he says. "In the face."
Blink. Big brown eyes get a bit bigger. "Well, he's a very nice man, I'm sure he'll forgive you. It was just an accident." Right Ben? Right?
He looks down again. "No, ma'am, it was not an accident. I was… havin' it out with him, and I lost my temper and went at him."
Her jaw actually drops, just a quarter inch or so, but it drops. "Bennarin Hazan, you did what?" She ain't yellin', just askin'.
Ben flinches, gazing at his boots. "I know," he says. "I know. I just — I lost my temper, Mizz. I hit him — I mean, he saw it comin'? He kind of ducked back? I did not, like, break his nose or nothin'." He lifts puppy eyes to her. That's better, right? That's good?
Her jaw's right back to hanging open. "What di– What did he say?" Fear prickles in her eyes, a dance of worry that intensifies as she begins to fill in some blanks through the power of Imagination.
Ben shakes his head and glances to the side. "He did not really — it is complicated." He is silent for a moment and then exhales. "D'you remember Aze? Aszera, Sil's friend? Elf?"
Well this isn't fitting in with any of her imagined scenarios. Confused, she nods. "Uh huh?" It's definitely a question.
He shrugs wearily. "Turns out Aze is on the boat. On the Lady Blanche, I mean. I saw her when I was over there and we was catchin' up." A pause. "Turns out she is on the Lady Blanche because the Vice Admiral is fuckin' her. Just, like. Not even a secret. Most people on the boat seem to know it. Lena knows it, and Sil."
Oh goodness. Mizzy's spine straightens and her chin dips a little. Thus primly situated, she says, "But he's married. He's still married, isn't he?"
"Yeah." Ben throws a gesture at Mizzy. See? She understands him.
He crosses the cabin — it's a small cabin, so he takes kind of a sidelong step — to drop down on the bed beside her. "He is still married. We have met his wife, you know? She is a nice lady. She found me at the party just to tell me she read my book and thought it was important." He glowers at his hands. "So I thought maybe — I mean, I dunno what I was thinkin'. Aze is a friend of mine, an' Sil an' Lena are friends of mine, an' the idea that he is just… up to some shit when he has got that nice lady wife waitin' for him at home — with a new baby — an' all these people are, like, knowin' about it — I dunno. I thought I would go and talk to him."
Her head turns to follow his progress, brown eyes wider still. "And what did he say?"
"He said it was none of my fucken business. But —" Ben makes another emphatic gesture, this time at the floor. "There is Aze's stuff right there on his floor. And it ain't — I mean maybe if it just turns out he is a shithead who cheats on his wife, it would not be my business except to like him a hell of a lot less. But Aze is my friend, and Sil and Lena, and he has got them… well he has got Aze, you know, and he has got Sil and Lena in on this shit, knowin' this business, and I don't see how that ain't my business. So I told him —" He pauses. "I don't remember exactly. I was pissed. But I told him he was married and had a wife and baby and all. And he said…." Ben takes a deep breath. "He said his wife is well aware, and they have an understanding."
You can tell he is being ice cold when he actually says the entire -ing.
Ismene huffs and turns to fully face Ben. "What sort of understanding could they possibly have? That he does what he wants and she just ignores it and pretends it isn't happening? Ben!" Fix it!
"I know!" he says. "I know. And that is when I… sort of lost it."
He falls silent for a minute, gazing at the opposite wall, then exhales again. "It just reminded me too much of… you know. It reminded me too much. Ma knew perfectly well, and so did pretty much everyone around, and he just kept on smooth as anything —" His jaw tightens.
After a moment he clears his throat. "So I kind of saw red, an' I went at him." He looks down at his hand, turns it and spreads his fingers out, examining his knuckles. "I ain't hit him that hard, I don't think. Maybe fucked up his wrist some." Another slightly awkward pause. "When he caught the second punch."
That's right, there were in fact two (2) punches.
"Well I'm glad you hit him. I may hit him myself the next time I see him!" She can't stomp her foot while she's curled up on the bunk, but it's plain she wants to. "And to think all the nice things I've said about him. His poor wife!"
Ben nods grimly. "An' she is pregnant again, too. He told me."
"Hmph," is her opinion. But not all of it. "I'm sure keeping her pregnant means she's too busy to pry into his business." She shakes her head. "Honestly, I'm appalled. And Sil and Lena both know? Are they not angry, too?"
Ben shrugs wearily. "I dunno. Sil said he figured it is just… noble marriages, you know? That they are married for politics or some shit is all. But even that is, I mean. You might be married for politics, but you are still married, right? But I dunno as much about all that shit as Sil. Lena — I dunno. Lena works for the man now, maybe she thinks it ain't her place on account of her job at stake. She really likes workin' for the fleet, yeah?"
Ismene leans forward to take Ben's hands. "I'm sorry, Ben. I know how much you liked Lord Fallon. I did, too."
Ben nods unhappily. "I did. I really did. He seemed like such a nice fellow. An' comin' out here with the rescue an' all…." He shakes his head wearily. "You know the ship is named after his wife? It's his nickname for her. He told me."
She shudders. "Ugh, how perverse. And I must say, I can't think much of Aszera, either. Surely she knows he's married."
Ben laughs. "Oh, she does, yeah." He is silent again a moment. "I just — I don't want to be mad at her, really. Ain't the lady's fault he is a smooth-talkin' creep. She prob'ly took him at his word that it is fine with his wife."
"She knows he's married, that's enough," Mizzy says stubbornly. "She's as much to blame as he is. I know I wouldn't carry on with a married man, no matter what he said."
"Well, you better not," Ben observes sternly. "You are a married lady."
He knits his brow. "You know he asked me if I am sleepin' with his wife? He ain't seem pissed or nothing, he just could not figure out another reason why it was my business or something."
Her mouth opens and closes and she frowns, a tiny echo of his. "Oh. Well. I suppose truthfully it really isn't any of our business. Except we get to choose who our friends are, and how we choose them is up to us, isn't it?"
Ben nods firmly. He looks down at their linked hands. "I hope he ain't gonna… tell Sir Elohad I hit him. Or… report me to someone, or somethin'."
She nods a little. Yeah, that's a problem. "How mad was he?" she asks, looking up at him.
Ben furrows his brow. "That was the weird thing? He ain't… seem that mad at all. Like, he was startin' to get mad at first, before I hit him — takin' a tone with me, how it was none of my business. And after I hit him, he snapped at me when I was gonna say sorry. But then he did not seem mad at all. He gave me a drink."
"Oh." She tries to comprehend that, then shakes her head dismissively. "Well, then he's not likely to be telling anyone what happened. Though… I suppose it's your duty to tell Lord Elohad it happened." Mizzy glances guiltily at Ben. Sorry Ben.
Ben winces. "You think?" He makes puppy eyes at Mizzy again.
Mizzy bites her lip. Oh, those eyes… But she nods. "I'm sure he'll understand you were just angry that he'd betray his wife, but… you broke a rule, Ben. And you're a lieutenant; that means you're supposed to be a model for Cobalt Company and I'm afraid you can't just go around punching people no matter how much they remind you of bad things from your past."
Ben shuts his eyes and swears under his breath. "I am gonna — get pulled off squad, you reckon? Or demoted." He rakes a hand through his hair.
"They can't do either of those things right now," she says, after a long sigh. "Not with the way things are. But you should apologize to Lord Fallon for losing your temper, and… I don't know. If it were anyone else but you, we'd expect them to step up and do the right thing, wouldn't we?"
Ben nods glumly. "Yeah. Yeah, we would. And I will." He sighs.
She reaches up to stroke his jaw. "My poor Ben. The last fight you got into over a woman was before we were even dating, and that turned out all right." Mizzy smiles a little.
His gaze softens and he smiles back down at her. "That turned out to be the best fight I ever got into."
She lifts his hand to her lips and touches a kiss to his knuckles. "Do you want me to come with you when you go to apologize to Lord Fallon? I promise not to slap him."
Ben does the puppy eyes again. "Kind of want to say yes? It feels a little like I should not, like hidin' behind you, but also… yeah, I would like that? It will remind me to be on my best manners, maybe, if he says somethin' shitty."
"If he does, you'll have to keep me from being terrible right back to him." Mizzy laughs lightly. "We'll be there for each other."
Ben pulls his hand from hers so that he can wrap his arm around her and pull her close against him. He puts his face in his hair. "I will keep you out of trouble," he says, muffled. "An' you will keep me."
The Following Day
Ben offers Mizzy a hand up onto the deck of the Lady Blanche as she reaches the top of the ladder behind him, a sailor steadying the dinghy below. It is a balmy mid-morning, and the general mood aboard the Blanche seems to be one of placid good cheer as the crew goes about their work.
Ben takes Mizzy's hand and politely approaches a nearby sailor to ask about the Captain's whereabouts. He has a wary, tense look, as though he's waiting for the crew to all point and stare or whisper, but none of the sailors seems inclined to do any such thing; the one Ben addresses nods genially and informs them the Captain is in his quarters.
Oh. There, again.
Well, Mizzy knows where they are as well as Ben does, so she takes the lead. Tight quarters mean letting go of his hand as they descend belowdecks but needs must the devil… swims. She peers down the hall (gangway? she never did learn her boat terminology) and then looks at Ben with a questioning arch to her eyebrows. Is he ready?
Ben smiles wanly. He is super not ready. He nods. He's ready.
Setting her expression into 'polite but cool', she lifts a hand and knocks on the door to Siamus's quarters.
"Aye, come in," calls a familiar voice.
Within the equally-familiar cabin, Vice Admiral Fallon is leaning over the broad central table, making a series of quick-calculated notations along one side of a nautical chart; a notebook lies open to one side, a brass protractor holding the pages open. He is dressed in a crisp white shirt with its sleeves rolled, along with his neatly-pressed uniform trousers and well-shined boots. He glances up as Ismene and Ben step in and blinks once, then straightens. "Hazan," he says pleasantly. "Lady Ismene." He offers them both a slight bow. "What can I do for ye?"
There is no sign of any guest in the cabin, but the curtain is drawn across the bed, so who knows, there could be a whole pile of people in there holding their breath.
"Lord Fallon," Ismene says, bobbing a quick curtsey. "We're sorry to take up your time. I trust you're well? Your family is well?" Is there a touch of frost there? Ismene Hazan, how rude.
Siamus is immune to frost. He smiles warmly at Ismene. "I always have time for any of the Ferences. And aye, we're all very well, thank ye kindly. Her Grace is expecting again, as ye may have heard. And how are the pair of ye?" He looks affably from Ismene to Ben as though the latter did not just yesterday punch him in the face. "Can I offer tea? A drink?"
Ben looks unbalanced by this geniality. He clears his throat. "I do not think we're meaning to stay long, sir," he says.
"Not long at all," Mizzy says, folding her hands lightly in front of her. "In fact, if you can spare Ben a moment more of your time, we should be able to leave you to your work shortly." She looks to Ben. You're up, big guy.
Siamus looks expectantly at Ben.
Ben clears his throat and meets Siamus' gaze levelly. "I apologize, sir, for our altercation yesterday. Specifically for my behavior. I was out of line."
Siamus waits for a moment. When nothing else seems forthcoming, he lays his pencil down and says thoughtfully, "I don't recollect that we had an altercation yesterday, Hazan. Did we? A fair lively discussion between gentlemen, but I wouldn't say an altercation, and a little debate's a healthy thing."
"I hardly call it a 'debate' when fists are being thrown," Mizzy says, apparently unwilling to participate in the fiction. "Ben wanted to apologize and I'm glad he did. My presence is, of course, not necessary."
Siamus regards Mizzy blandly. "As your husband has, I'm sure, told ye — I know he's an honest man — I wasn't the one to throw a fist. But as ye can see, there was no harm done, and we did in fact have a lengthy conversation afterward which was entirely civil. Though I believe we agreed to disagree, in the end." Siamus inclines his head at Ben, smiling faintly.
To Ben directly, he says, "I admire your returning to apologize, and will thank you for it, but as I also told ye yesterday, it's not warranted. It's certainly not the first time I've had such a conversation."
Mizzy blushes at the unspoken accusation. "I was referring to the two punches from Ben," she says, looking down at her feet. Beseechingly, she then looks up at Ben. For the love of God, say something, I'm messing this up completely.
Ben reaches for Mizzy's hand. He keeps his chin up and holds Siamus' gaze. "I did agree to disagree, sir, yes. So to be clear, I am not here to apologize for disagreein' with you, nor even for coming to you in the first place, because my friends are mixed up in your business and I do not like to see that. But I am sorry I lost my temper and I am sorry I swung at you. I am glad to see there was no harm done." He hesitates and then adds, "I hope your wrist is okay."
Siamus holds said wrist up and flexes it, wiggling his fingers. "Entirely," he says, still smiling, and then he sobers. "I understand your position, naturally; as I say, I've heard it before. And I understand ye have a difficult personal history with a situation that appears superficially similar, for which I am gravely sorry. Ye have very good friends, Hazan, all of them people of good character, and all of them adults who make their own decisions. D'ye think honestly that any of them would simply go along with — or be involved with — a personal injustice?"
Ben opens his mouth and then closes it again. He flexes the fingers of his free hand like he is thinking about making a fist, but he does not. "No, sir," he admits at last, low-voiced and wary.
Siamus looks to Ismene, apparently for her verdict on the same question.
"I'm afraid I must say apparently they will," Ismene says, still pink. Her hands grip each other more tightly. See, this is why civilized people wear gloves to things like this. Whatever a thing this is. "At least, if it's the right sort of injustice. Though for all I know, Silvestre no longer speaks with you so perhaps they don't. And Lena is, after all, your employee."
Siamus smiles at Ismene. "Silvestre," he says, "is staying on this ship currently. I count Lena Coit a friend as well as an employee; she had dinner here with myself and Miss Sunstrike last evening." He looks between the Hazans. "I realize that ye both find my marriage distasteful. I continue to wonder what business it is of yours, but I will also say that a marriage is a private arrangement between the people involved in it, and despite conventions and expectations, people may arrange a thing however they please, so long as they are honest and in agreement with each other. What matters is how true they are to the rules they and their spouse have set out. The rules of my marriage aren't the rules of yours, and that's as it will be." He shrugs. "When I tell ye my wife is well aware, I assure ye that I don't mean she sits by and watches me skulking; I mean that we negotiated a marriage contract wi' these terms in it, and we both consented in full.
"To my mind, a marriage is a practical arrangement: House, family, finance. That is why my wife and I married. The fact that we are very much in love is an entirely separate affair. I would have married her whether I loved her or not, and in fact I did: I did not find feelings for the lady until some time after we were married. Which she also knew and understood. I can assure ye both that we are honest to the terms of our marital arrangement, which is a contract separate from our sentiments. Ye do not have to agree with our views — I understand ye will not — but ye should at least try to understand them before ye judge me so harshly." He looks gravely between them.
Ben looks uneasily down at Mizzy. Are you… getting this?
Mizzy starts off hot. "What business it is of ours is the manner of friends we want in our lives. If we find someone's life repugnant, may we not choose to eliminate them as friends or even as colleagues? The way someone conducts themselves is certainly key to how they are regarded by others, is it not?"
But she falters, her expression falling into uncertainty and doubt. "Though… I suppose if it is as you say, that infidelity was written into the contract between you, if she knows and approves…" She trails off. Her bewilderment is plain to see. "I suppose we have nothing to object to?" She glances again at Ben as her tone lilts up.
Ben's brow is knit ferociously. "This is what happened yesterday, he talked me in circles. It sounds like a lot of lawyerin', to me. That is not how a marriage works."
"That is not how your marriage works," Siamus corrects mildly. "And I would not call it infidelity if it is faithful to the terms of the marriage, aye? But ye may call it what ye please. I am grieved to know that ye find my life repugnant, and that the better measure of my conduct does not to your mind outweigh this particular personal business. I would be sorry should ye choose to eliminate me as a friend, as I like and enjoy the pair of ye very much. But ye will of course make your own choice, and I will respect it."
Ben glares at him. After a moment or two, though, the glare falters and fades uncertainly. "What if I wrote to your wife?" he suggests stiffly.
Siamus smiles. "I'm sure Her Grace would thank ye kindly for your good intentions, and assure ye that all is well."
She knows she shouldn't, but she's wrestling with this still in full view of the man she's talking about. She'll feel bad later. "Ben, you cannot write to a woman and ask if she's all right with her husband being unfaithful." Pause. "In fact, if it is written into the marriage contract, it's not being unfaithful at all. In a way, it's… being faithful to the terms they set. So I suppose then, the question is do we think Lord Fallon a liar. But if he is cheating then of course he's a liar, as he's already lied to his wife."
She shakes her head, distressed. "I'm so sorry, Lord Fallon, but I cannot know what to think. If we find out you're telling the truth, there's simply no way for us to apologize enough, and of course we'll stay away from you out of simple shame if nothing else. Any way we have of confirming the truth is a shocking breach of courtesy, to say nothing of plain decency. I don't know what to do. In a perfect world, we'd not have confronted you at all, but since B– since we have, we have to resolve this in some manner that allows for what happens next."
Ben's ears are very red. He drops his gaze to his boots.
Siamus looks steadily at both of them for a moment, and then he comes around the table to where they stand. He offers out his hand to Ben, and with his other hand touches Ben's elbow gently. "Hazan," he says. "You're not the first, and it can only be honorable of ye to come to the protection of your friends and a lady ye believed wronged. There are no hard feelings."
Ben, still looking down, nods once and takes Siamus's hand to shake it.
Siamus shakes his hand firmly, and then releases him to turn to Mizzy. "Lady Ismene, I assure ye that I'm not a man who tells lies — my hard inclination toward the truth has gotten me into a deal of trouble more than once. That granted, understand that I'm not lying when I say there's no cause for shame, and that I would be sorry to lose the society of the pair of ye." He glances at Ben. "I understand that Hazan has… some personal grief that brought him here yesterday, and I am sorry for it. As much as it isn't his business and there was no call for fists, I will say that we all of us have a view of the world colored by our histories, aye? Your husband meant to right an historical wrong, and I'm sorry that he couldn't, as this isn't that situation. But I understand the impulse."
He pauses and then drops his gaze to Mizzy again and says dryly, "As I know ye to be a sensible young lady, I would suggest ye speak with him on the future advisability of striking Alliance officers." He offers her that faint, sardonic curl of a smile.
"I can't say as I ever had any thought of you as other than a noble, kind man who was more welcoming than he ever had need to be. I… I liked you, my lord, and I'd be pleased to have that relationship continue." Mizzy blushes again; she can't seem to stop doing it. "I can only say that I feel in my heart you're being truthful, and I hope that I never have cause to doubt that feeling. I didn't understand about the contract, and while it's not a life I'd choose, I know things are different among noble families. No matter what else happens, I can promise you'll never hear from either of us on this subject again."
Siamus steps back so that he can bow courteously to her. "I like ye very well, Lady Ismene — the pair of ye — and I would also be pleased to continue friends. I would be glad to have ye both out to Fallon House as soon as this business here is cleared up" — this little spot of apocalypse, u know — "and ye can visit with your trees. Miss Coit and Ralaea Westwind both live with us at present, and would both be glad to have ye visit, I'm sure. As would Her Grace and I."
He glances over at Ben and reaches out to clasp his arm briefly.
Ben nods at some point between his boots and the table in front of them. His ears are still stained dark red. "Yessir. Thank you, sir."
Mizzy smiles a little at the mention of her trees, and her eyes brighten. She doesn't say anything about them, though. "Thank you for your patience and your time, Lord Fallon. We'll leave you to your work and go back to preparing for ours."
He inclines his head courteously, glances once more at Ben, and then moves back to the other side of the table and takes up his pencil. "I wish ye both good day."
Ben mumbles something that might be good day sir in the general direction of his boots.
A Short While Later
Ismene manages to make it to the cabin she and Ben call 'home' before she collapses. It's a near thing, but she makes it to the bunk. "Brightest Light, I don't think I've ever been so embarassed in my life," she says. "And that's saying quite a bit." She raises her hands to her cheeks. Yep, still hot. She looks up at Ben. "You might've mentioned about the contract."
"He didn't say that," Ben says sullenly. "He only said it was a arrangement they talked about before marryin'." His hands are in his pockets and he doesn't meet Mizzy's gaze.
She holds her hands out to him. "It's all right, I was as appalled as you were and you did say that Sil mentioned something about noble families. And he's right, except that most noblemen have mistresses they keep on the side. Everyone knows, no one talks about it, but it happens. I think I was only taken so aback because I never would have thought Lord Fallon one of them.
"I still can't," she admits, "but if it was all agreed to beforehand, then it's a different story. I don't understand how the Duchess can be all right with it but…." She pauses, realizing she's saying 'but' a lot. "I don't know how to feel, I suppose."
Ben looks up at the ceiling and doesn't move to take Mizzy's hands yet. "It is just what he done to me yesterday. After I — after. He gave me a drink an' then talked circles around me until I ain't know which way was what. I know I do not like it, but I can't… say why as good as he does. As well as he does." He blows out a frustrated breath.
After a moment he adds, low-voiced, "I am sorry I embarrassed you."
That gets her up and off the bed. Her hands grip one of his (with room left over). "Oh Ben, no. I did it to myself. I only meant to go to keep things civilized and I was the one doing most of the talking, all of it stupid and thoughtless. I don't like it, either, but I can't say any longer that he's in the wrong. If his wife agreed to him—" She hesitates. "To him having other lovers, then it's not my place to tell him he's doing something wrong. I couldn't live that way, but they apparently can."
"I would not like it," Ben says fiercely, squeezing her hand hard. He looks down and adds morosely. "I liked him. I really want to like him still. I want to. But I dunno if I can. And I feel — I dunno. Like disappointed, but worse."
Now his gaze finds hers. "And it kind of sounded like I embarrassed you."
Softly, she says, "Then that was stupid and thoughtless, too. And I'm sorry. If I'd just kept my stupid mouth shut, we'd have been in and out with no more damage done."
She sidles forward a little, nestling closer to him. "I think less of him too, you know. I don't understand, contract or no, how he can say he loves his wife yet have other lovers. It seems cheap to me, and it cheapens him in my eyes. It's not fair of me, but it's how I feel. And I used to think so highly of him, it's hard now."
He exhales and turns to wrap his arms around her. "I feel like… I dunno. I feel like I just found out Turalyon kicked puppies or somethin'. I looked up at him."
In the metaphorical sense. Ben looks up at very few people, and Siamus is like three inches shorter than him.
"And it wasn't your mouth," he adds miserably. "It was like you said, if I had not gone in there and made it my business in the first place."
"He understands why," she says, relaxing against him now that she's in his arms. "I understand why. And I suppose it's no bad thing now that you don't look up to him anymore. He's only human, and he's proven himself fallible. He has warts just like the rest of us plain humans." She lifts her head to look up at his chin. "We don't need to socialize with him, if you don't want to. I can get us out of any invitations."
"I dunno about the rest of plain humans, but I do not have warts," Ben says indignantly, the start of a smile in his voice. Then he sobers again and rests his chin on Mizzy's head. "I feel… let down. A lot. Like… I feel like my feelings are hurt and I dunno why? It's stupid. And I also feel like… he was tryin' to be real decent about it. But that don't make up for the letdown. And I got to admit it stings a little bit to be the one getting forgiven and him bein' decent to when I am not the one… you know."
He sighs. "I don't think we can avoid him, though, neither. Lena and Sil hang around him, and he has been givin' a lot of work to Cobalt, and he sits on the House with Sir Elo and they are kind of thick as thieves there. I do not want to sour any of that. I mean, hell, I might be on the House someday with him." He gives a strange, doleful laugh. "I do not think I can say, 'Sir Elo, I punched Vice Admiral Fallon because he is fuckin' around on his wife.' Because if it ain't my business, it prob'ly ain't business I got to air around. But if I say, 'Sir, I punched Vice Admiral Fallon,' he is going to be like, 'What the fuck, Ben, how come?' and then what do I say? 'I would rather not say'? Then he just goes and asks Vice Admiral Fallon."
Ben pauses. "Fallible," he says, and gives a short, half-hearted laugh.
"You feel let down because you held him in high esteem," Mizzy says. "Maybe there was even a bit of hero worship there. Now he's… he's just down with the rest of us. It's natural to feel hurt and a little betrayed, even."
She nuzzles closer. "As for telling Sir Elohad he'll respect it if you tell him the reason was personal to Lord Fallon and it's not your place to reveal the man's secrets. He did forgive you and even said he'll invite us over to Fallon House, and you can tell Sir Elohad that, too. Unless you've changed your mind about confessing?"
Ben shakes his head. "No, you are right that I got to. But it just feels… weird." He sighs again and rocks Mizzy from side to side a little.
Mizzy remains silent for a moment, basking in Ben's warmth. Then she says, "It makes you a better man than him, you know. At least in my eyes. That you're willing to admit a mistake and own up to it. Not that he made a mistake, mind." She stops herself before she can say anything else stupid and thoughtless. Instead, she finishes up with, "Well, you know."
He squeezes her. "I will take your word on it."
After a moment he draws back and looks down at her. "I am sorry I embarrassed you. But you were not stupid and thoughtless, Mizmainy. You are a lady and a spitfire, and I bet no one else ever saw a kitten dress down a Vice Admiral of the Alliance before." He laughs a little. "That was frosty as hell, when you asked how his family was, all polite."
"I shouldn't have done it," Mizzy says, but she hugs Ben tight in thanks. "At least this time I didn't threaten to throw anyone to the sharks."
"It is for the best," Ben says philosophically. "He probably knows how to handle a shark."