#5

Setting down a slice of cake for him, Millie allowed a smile to play across her lips at the quip. Pulling a spare chair around, the witch sat down herself and called her teacup to her. She curled her fingers around the porcelain and tipped it up towards her face. Once again, her brows furrowed thoughtfully at its contents.  

“I think I know what I’d see in yours,” she commented, leaning back into the comfort of the upholstery. “Much of what is in there, I shouldn’t wonder. I think in regards to this, you and I would be much of a muchness. Tea is general. It doesn’t do specifics. Although, Poppy is due for a dog.” Millie turned her wand slowly between her fingers. “As it is, what do you see? Humour me. I’ll return the favour at your discretion. But, what do you see?”

She called one of the books to her, this time using her wand, and laid it out on the table beside Keiran. She could already feel a little bit of achiness in her arms. It would take time to gain her strength with wandless magic. She was proud that she’d not managed to blow the teacup up – a rather unfortunate side effect of many of her practises while at school. Her professors had been less than impressed.

She considered his question carefully. Theodore had been adamant that there was no better place than Hogwarts and that his students were exemplary. They were diamonds in the ruff. Some of them had more promise than they knew. Others stood to become dangerous liabilities to themselves and to others. But they were all delights. They all had a chance. Perhaps Theodore hadn’t been far wrong about them after all.

“I think I’ll be sad to see them go when Theodore hires a proper Divination teacher,” came her measured response as she settled her hands in her lap having tucked her wand behind her ear. All the while, her eyes remained steady and curious on the man before her, half marvelling once more at his beauty, half waiting to see what he had to say about anything she had said.

More than anything, she was giving too much weight to the former. To the angularity of his features, softened by the peppered hair across his jaw. To the spark behind those quick and intuitive eyes betraying his cleverness and wit. To the way his lips moved in a slinky, almost catlike way, curling up and down, spreading out in pleasure and pursing together in distaste. He was utterly transfixing. A picture her fingers itched to commit to paper.

Later.

For, now, she had to focus on the room. On being present, on not allowing herself to be totally and completely absorbed by him – a monumental task for any witch with eyes.

That story about what was in the cup? The one Ronald Weasley undoubtedly told his children before sending them off to their third year in hopes that they'd write home about Divination to annoy their mum? Keiran had never heard it.

He didn't know what to think or say when she said she knew what she would find in his tea leaves, but the idea that she wanted him to look at hers. He didn't know why, but that seemed a bit overly intimate. For the students, it wasn't anything of consequence. But after the arguments the two of them had been through already, he was taken aback a bit - and it showed.

Lifting his eyebrows upwards and then together, he focused his gaze on her as she summoned and placed objects in front of him. Rather than comment on his uncertainty, he focused in on the comment about Poppy.

"Is she the one that you made a strange face about?"

His eyes locked on hers before he looked down at the cup, taking it carefully between his fingers. The Transfiguration professor only needed a few moments to register what he saw. And, perhaps surprisingly, he didn't need the book to figure it out. He actually didn't look at it once. Indeed, he remembered the images quite well. He probably wouldn't have known most of the others, but it of course had to be these.

It was almost painful to pretend to focus in on the porcelain when he had something - or someone - else that was far more attractive and deserving of his attention. Considering, as he suddenly did, that the last time they'd been in this room they had had what could likely only be classed as a moment.

He tensed when she spoke again, lifting his chin to look at her again after a moment. All Keiran could do for a minute was frown at her, a weird flash of hurt deepening his furrowed brow for a second before it changed back. "You want to leave," he concluded, stating it rather than asking. He was probably jumping from what she said to what he thought would be a negative, but it did disappoint him. "That's a shame."

Turning quickly back to the teacup, Keiran twisted his wrist and spun it around as though he were searching for something new that might have appeared in the meantime.

"Right, so," he attempted, clearing his throat. He set the cup in front of her and leaned back in his chair again. "You've got something good coming, which perhaps isn't surprising. I've no idea. Perhaps it will be. But, apparently," he drawled the word out sarcastically, "it will come with a cost of some sort, or it'll be mixed in with grief. Sorry in advance, if so."

Keiran glanced towards the book, a hit of disdain crossing his features. He would have made a joke about how it was probably nonsense, but she believed in the stuff so that wasn't going to go over well, most like. His eyes drifted to the cake she had left him, so he decided to pick up the little plate and try some before he said something she wouldn't appreciate. It crumbled a bit as he removed a piece, so he collected the little bits with his fingers and brought them to his lips before he came up with something more polite.

Admittedly, it came out a bit more sarcastic and perhaps a bit flirtatious, but it was better than insulting her profession outright. And he wasn't lacking practice when it came to trying to be a smooth-talker, so it just sort of... happened.

"Did I get it right, Professor?"

“You saw that?”

It was meant to be a statement but the words bubbled past her lips and into the air as more of a question, instead. Muted surprise altered her expression and she looked caught for a moment, as though she was undecided about whether she should guard her knowledge of what had happened or be open with him about it.

Part of her desperately wanted to confide in him and to ask him whether she should intervene or allow the future to run its course. But she didn’t honestly think he would believe her. She didn’t expect him to, at least. She doubted that, had their positions been reversed, she would have done, in any case.

She decided to try the middle of the road with him, telling herself that she couldn’t be really sure of what she had seen in the bottom of the cup. Her mind wouldn’t quite allow her to forget the images that Poppy had unwittingly revealed to her, though. They hung about in her head as clearly as Keiran’s future did, it wasn’t something she could truly be unsure of.

Although, it was still all subject to change. She would have to keep an eye on Poppy. And the others, all with that unfortunate little symbol in the bottom of their cups.

“There was something that struck me a bit odd in her tealeaves,” was all the witch said. She decided to leave out the bit about the other bit of fortune telling she had done. It was a misuse of power and an overstepping of boundaries. It wasn’t something she wanted to admit to – especially if there was nothing, yet, for her to worry about.

Well, worry any more than she already was.

She smiled a little bit when he spoke, wondering if that was a bit of disappointment she heard in his voice. She shook her head, settling her hands gently in her lap, allowing glimpses of her future to pass between her palms, rumbling about just outside of her Occlumency shields.

“I’m not homesick yet,” she replied softly, letting that be her correcting response. She knew she would get too attached to them. In fact, she was half sure she already was and those she had just seen were only one class. They were the babies of the students she was to teach.

“I’d actually quite to see that lot graduate,” she smiled a little more fully, already imagining them in their caps and gowns, all grown up, four years from now. I’m not going anywhere just yet, love.

She looked down at the cup briefly before lifting her eyes back up to focus on the brunette. She smirked a little bit. A laugh broke past her lips and she couldn’t help her grin as his incredulity seemed to be winning out.

“You’re a quick study, Mr Hayes,” she quipped in response before she had the good sense to think about what she was saying and measure it. “I wonder what else you could learn with a little bit more time on our hands.”

An image flashed through her head that was more like daydream than anything else – thankfully not future driven. If she had been bolder, perhaps she would have gotten out of her chair, settled herself demurely in his lap with her legs either side of his hips and they could test that theory however which way they wanted.

She was barmy. She’d entirely lost her mind.

“So, err,” she cleared her throat awkwardly, wishing away the colour that was rapidly rising in her cheeks. “When’s your first lecture today?”

A tilt of his head confirmed that, indeed, he had seen the incident. She already knew that, of course, but she had asked. And Keiran was nothing if not attentive - particularly when it came to her, apparently. As tempted as he was to ask her for an elaboration, it seemed like a topic that made her feel uncomfortable, so he decided to drop it.

Keiran would deny it, but his shoulders did relax a bit when she said she wanted to stay for a good while.

For a moment, he didn't do anything about her comment. His chin turned slightly at her use of his name, and he put the plate down. Nothing past that. But then one side of his mouth lifted into a slow smirk as his gaze focused in on her. Resting his elbow on the arm of his chair, he touched his thumb to the bottom of his chin and ran his forefinger across his lower lip. Keiran's eyebrow raised almost of its own accord, but then she broke off and he looked down at the table in front of him.

In order to keep himself from laughing, he sent his tongue across his bottom lip before rolling it inwards to meet the upper one. When he looked up again, she was bright red, and it amused him enough to lean back in his chair and lift one foot to rest his ankle atop the opposite knee.

"Round about an hour," he replied. "I'll have to stop by Theo's office at some point, and I assume you know why, given I've been sat in here through your lesson. It went quite well, I'd say."

He knew what would not go well, though. The minute Keiran and Melissa had to sit next to each other at dinner and either of them made eye contact with Theodore, they'd be lost. And it would end up with Theo amused, and Keiran suggesting he take hold of a WWW rocket, light it, and shoot himself into space, where they wouldn't have to hear him. Of course, it would likely get him nowhere - unless that meant he would be assigned to more time with Melissa.

Oh, what a hardship.

Keiran went for the rest of the cake she had set before him, before leveling her with a curious expression as he held the plate in front of him. As he began speaking, he turned his attention towards the treat. "Are you skilled particularly in hydromancy, Melissa?"

Oh my word.

Are you ever struck with the overwhelming sense that you’re in trouble?

Have you ever been?

Well, dear reader, our much-loved Finnigan, as you well know, has had such a feeling before. Although, not in this universe. Mind you, there are a few more times, yet, that this particular Finnigan is going to have such a feeling. One of them she has already foreseen. This one, however, she didn’t see coming. Well, she didn’t see him coming, reader – especially not in the guise he did.

This man was the personification of temptation and utter sin.

As she wiggled in her chair, thinking just that, Melissa felt herself grow hotter, and hotter, and hotter. No doubt, she had a hue about her skin to match. Every ounce of her wanted to up sticks and leave. She wanted to flee the entire castle. The only other alternative was to give into her daydream and steal the time they had for the moment to gain some relief.

But this was all far too soon. He was handsome, to be sure – although that was an understatement, she decided – but she couldn’t be thinking about him that way. She couldn’t be saying things like that. For heaven’s sake, what if he was …

Shit.

Later, she would grab Baldric and interrogate him about the very thought that had just entered her mind – was Keiran seeing someone? She recoiled inwardly at the thought of him regaling her comment to his gorgeous partner who would be entirely, justifiably, annoyed – to put it lightly. Much to her delight, Baldric would assure her with a broad smirk that Keiran wasn’t really the dating type – though he wouldn’t let her off without quipping that she only wanted to know so she could have him herself. The bruise on his arm she’d leave would fade by the weekend.

Until then, though, Millie was left with her mortification deepening even further at the thought that Keiran had someone to go home to and during the day was getting what amounted to workplace sexual harassment. She reached up and rubbed her eyes, sorely wishing a rogue Basilisk would sweep into the room to eat her or, less dramatically, an equally rogue student would burst in and demand attention from her. Anything. Before her mind strayed to wondering what his girlfriend looked like.

Merlin she’s probably spectacular, she cringed.

Okay, too late.

She pushed visions of some sort of model creature – probably someone Witch Weekly would rave about – out of her mind and decided to torment herself with it later, opting to focus, instead, on the blessed change of subject.

You’re going out at the weekend and you’re going to find someone to go home with, she told herself resolutely, determined to get whatever this was out of her system.

“Right,” she exhaled out the word, offering him a sheepish smile. “Good. I hoped it had. I felt a bit sick throughout, actually,” she shook her head. Calm hadn’t really been something she’d been feeling during that whole hour – especially knowing he was there the whole time observing. “Is there anything I need to work on?”

Aside from tact and what comes out of my mouth when I’m with you?

She could have kissed him when he turned the conversation back to Divination. Just as quickly she got that thought out of her mind. She didn’t need to dwell on that.

“Hydromancy?” She arched an eyebrow. “It was never an area of interest of mine but I understand the nuts and bolts of it. Can I ask why?”

It took the deputy headmaster several moments to come up with any sort of answer to offer her. "It was day one," he conceded, opening one hand in a shrug of a gesture. "The goal was to get them interested, obviously, as they're likely new to the subject. Step two, I imagine, will be to intrigue them enough that they want to look things up outside of class. I think that, as teachers, we want all students to reach that point. Most won't, don't get me wrong. But you may find yourself surprised by how many do, if you invest in them."

Actually, Professor Hayes was thoroughly pleased to know that Melissa's knowledge of the area was minimal. It wasn't something taught to younger years, necessarily, and Keiran had noted that different professors went at the subject in different ways and focused in areas they found effective. That wasn't surprising, really. What had bemused him was that, since his time as a student, they had not come across one who wanted to focus on hydromancy.

It was a relief, really. It reinforced him decision that the subject was atrociously overhyped.

"Hydromancy," he declared, setting down that ever-present plate and gathering his things, "is the reason I dropped this class, as a student. It is, in fact, the main reason why I despise your subject and think it incredibly pointless." Rising to his feet, Keiran collected himself before adding, "Today, Miss Finnigan, you almost made me want to reconsider."

With a firm nod and a last comment ("Keep it up."), he turned and made for Theodore's office, fully determined to pretend nothing had happened.

If Keiran had ownership of a vindictive sort of foresight, perhaps he would have arranged for Avery to meet him at the end of his time with Melissa, if only to see what the reaction would be. But that was hardly like him. At least, for now. Who knew what would happen when he got his hands on someone with a more clever mind?

---

If there was one thing Bentley Pierson was not, it was tardy. He was never late, and positively despised people who were, when it came to important meetings. Time, as they say, is money. And Ben did not have the time to figure out where the hell Keiran Hayes's office was. Aiden had assured him that his son had the text that Ben needed, so here he was. Keiran, as he had heard, was not brilliant at replying to owls in a timely manner, and would just be in his best interest to go around and harass the man in person.

It had not been too very long since Ben had attended school there - perhaps five years - but a few things had not been retained. Such as the location of the Deputy Headmaster's office or the teacher's common room. The latter had never actually been something he needed to know about, and he had not been in trouble often enough to be shown the location of the former. Not more than once, at least.

As he made his way through the ground floor's entrance corridor, he came upon the stairs that led up to the entrance to the Great Hall, and knew he likely would not find the person he needed there. If he remembered correctly, most things of importance were upstairs, or in the basement, and he doubted that Professor Hayes would want to work in a basement for the rest of his time at Hogwarts. Bentley's thought process had almost suggested 'for the rest of his life,' but perhaps that was more something that applied to Ben. Married-to-his-career he would be until he found a way to change that. So far, he had never had that desire.

Equally, it was very rare for something to distract him once he set his mind on something and got to work on it. As he strode through the hallways, he found that students were roaming as well - some staring at him as they passed, others ignoring him because they had a long way to go in order to make it to their next lesson on time. He barely noticed them. Would you like to know why?

Because out from one of the doors came a familiar face. Not so familiar that Ben could call out to them like they were mates, but familiar enough that Bentley knew for certain the younger man had been in classes with him. Now, he dressed as a professor, and had much more height to his name. Baldric Wood. He had grown up well, hadn't he? Even if Ben didn't know how much of a harried mess the professor could be before the first lesson of the day, or how many snacks his students provided him throughout the term.

"Professor Wood."

Bentley had stopped in the hallway, expecting students to step around him, and had slipped one hand into his jacket pocket. As the traffic in the hall died down, Ben let his eyes take in the grown man in front of him. Five years ago, he wouldn't have noticed or taken an interest in the way he did now. Now that he had accepted that part of himself.

As his eyes moved up to meet Baldric's, he lifted his chin and added, "Are you busy?"

"He's a scabby eejit and I hate him!”

Sighing testily, Baldric lowered his head into his hands as Isla launched herself across the table, her hands seizing at the front of her elder brother’s robes. Ross let go of a horrified shout and the pair clattered to the floor, Isla having resorted to a good old fashioned fist fight to solve her problems. Baldric wished something would solve his. On days like this he sorely regretted taking the post at Hogwarts when Theodore and Ilvermorny’s headmaster had come calling. Originally, he’d thought being closer to his family would be a good idea. Now, he couldn’t believe how naïve he was.

“Baldric!” Cailin’s shrill voice cut through his thoughts and he looked up to see the irate prefect staring at him in disbelief as their siblings continued to roll around on the floor, getting in as many kicks and punches between them as they could. “Do something!” Behind her, Alec had burst into a fit of laughter and was bent over double, watching through slitted eyes, moist with mirthful ears, as they fought. That only seemed to incense her further and she looked torn between which brother she should reprimand first.

Taking his wand out of the pocket of his blazer, Baldric sent a fizzing jet of bright purple magic at his miniature wrestlers and watched impassively as they were thrown to opposite sides of his classroom. Rising from his desks, he sent his sister a pointed look as though to say “satisfied?” and moved out from behind the desk, clapping his hand to the back of Alec’s head as he passed the boy on his way to Isla.

“Detention,” he announced, tapping his wand against her nose. “For both of you,” he cast a disparaging look over his shoulder in Ross’s direction.

The pair sighed and lowered their heads, muttering under their breaths. Baldric didn’t care quite what the specifics were but his voice darkened with irritation as he informed them that they would serve two weeks. Exclamations of how unfair he was being followed, leading to the History of Magic professor levelling three weeks of detentions on their shoulders – and no Hogsmeade trip for either of them. Worst brother ever. They rounded the number of siblings he’d given detention that morning to four, already having given Davin and Jack detention for harassing the Fat Friar.

“Go to your classes,” he instructed wearily. “And if I hear of either of you getting into trouble any more today then I will have you sent home.”

Now at the point where he would make good on any threats, Baldric threw a shot of magic in the direction of the door, blasting it open. The Ravenclaw and Gryffindor picked up their things and trooped out, one on the way to Charms, the other heading down to the greenhouses. Alec, too, scooped up his bag and bid his eldest brother goodbye before sloping out to go to Ancient Runes. Cailin lingered, emphasising her displeasure by the way she was shoving her books into her satchel.

“Why are they like that?” She asked exasperatedly.

“Because they’re so alike they just combust,” he chuckled despite himself.

“Would you really send them home?” She queried tentatively, lifting her bag to her shoulder.

Baldric smiled and extended his arm, pulling Cailin close. He popped a kiss to the top of her head before letting go, assuring her that it wouldn’t be for every long if he did. She shot him an incredulous look before sidling towards the door.

“Cailin,” Baldric called after her. She turned in the doorway. “Watch out for them, lass.”

Another class passed by – blessedly with the second year Hufflepuffs and Slytherins who were less trouble than the Gryffindors. The Hufflepuffs had also brought cupcakes which infinitely improved his mood. Nevertheless, he was still up for using the two-hour block he had spare next recreationally. He wanted a coffee and a sit down somewhere where he didn’t run the risk of seeing any students – or his siblings, for that matter. He had had enough excitement for one day – but had the day’s excitement had enough of him, yet?

Not even close.

Turning at the sound of his name, or, err, title, Baldric stopped short in the corridor. Students passed about him and he leaned a bit to the right in order to see who had called after him. He felt his heart flutter in his chest at the sight of the man who … was that really Bentley Pierson? He was … well. Baldric’s lips curved into a smile and he strode over, one hand extended in greeting.

“Not busy at all, mate,” he assured, his grin sweeping up into a coy smirk. “What brings you back to Hogwarts?”  

--

Meanwhile, reader, there was a little creature making his way down the corridor of the teacher’s wing. Trotting along happily with a belly full of food, Lucius Malfoy the Cat was retracing his steps back to his mistress’s room. He stopped short outside of her portrait and looked up disdainfully at the mermaid who was idly combing her hair. He lifted a paw and licked at it absently before letting out a loud yowl, demanding entry.

“Shoo!” The mermaid sniffed derisively.

Lucius drew up, dismayed. He huffed – well, as much as a cat can – and turned around, looking at the centaur who was stood demurely in his painting. Lucius yowled again but this time he got a little bit of luck. The portrait door swung open and he hopped inside before the centaur could change his mind.

The door clanged shut behind him and Lucius scampered across the room towards the bed, a feral grin on his face. He hopped up onto the top and settled himself on the pillow that looked most recently slept upon. A satisfied look grew over his face, then, and he slowly drifted off to sleep.

Meeting Baldric's gesture, Ben gave the other man's hand a firm shake. It's possible that he lingered a moment too long, but he would deny it later, if asked.

"Your Deputy Headmaster and his inability to respond to letters, actually," Ben replied, an eyebrow lifting with slight disdain. His gaze focused in on Baldric again, though, taking in the smile and seemingly open stance. He wasn't one to assume things, but it was quite likely that, in the event that the attempt was rejected, he wouldn't really have a reason to see Baldric again. Not for a long time, anyway.

So he just said it. "But I can't say I mind the diversion."

A smirk pulled at his lips and he shifted his weight over his right leg in an attempt to direct a bit of the buzzing energy that was sweeping through him. He had made himself a very tight schedule for the day, just as he always did. But perhaps a few things could be moved around.

"If you're not busy, perhaps you could show me the way to Hayes's office, then," he suggested.

Bentley’s hand was warm and solid, firm yet kind around his own. Baldric was almost sorry to let go and could, too, be accused of lingering in the touch a little longer than most would deem appropriate. He waited to see if Ben had noticed at all but the expression on the elder man’s face did not indicate that he had or that he had any odds with it if he did.

A sheepish look crossed the angular features of the Gryffindor Head of House. He reached up and ran his fingers through the sandy hair that had been mussed to a mess that morning by the repeated altercations with his siblings. Somehow, he made it work. He did put-together disarray very well, this one.

It had been a long morning, too. With two lectures back to back with what he would call the most hideous cross-section of two of the year groups, Baldric had just about had enough. He had already shucked his robes – never having gotten along with them well. It left him in a pale blue button down shirt, top buttons undone, revealing the cord of a necklace and a dusting of dark chest hair, and the sleeves rolled to the crease of his elbow.

If anyone cared to look – which, much to his chagrin, his students did – then the way the sun streamed through the clear glass windows and fell upon the History of Magic professor was interesting. Around his back, which was still firm with lean muscle from playing Quidditch recreationally as a younger man, and around his sides his shirt had grown translucent. It brought into view the lion that had been drifting restlessly about his body that morning, acutely aware of his master’s temper. But like his master, the lion, too, was jarred and rooted by the dark haired former-Slytherin. Both entirely entranced.

“You’ll have to give him a bit of leeway,” Baldric found his response with a chuckle, merriment lighting up his features. “His cousin blindsided him, and the rest of us for that matter, with a new appointment so while Theo’s off doing whatever it is he does, Kegs is picking up the tab by looking out for the wee lass. Not sure how much he’s enjoying it but she’s easy on the eyes so I expect he’s found a reason to hang about her, even if her subject is madness.”

Then, though, Baldric remembered that fine detail that he was teaching a subject that had been turned to dross by a ghost that had to be shut up in one of the north towers in order to stop him from continuing to lecture on it.

“This is coming from a historian,” he amended, his cheeks gaining a sweet turn of red. “Ignore me. I found myself believing for a moment there that the goblin wars are not madness, either.”

Baldric’s smile grew at Ben’s words and he extended his arm in an ‘after you’ gesture to the man.

“It’d be a pleasure,” he all but purred, his confidence returning in full force. He had been hanging about with Rookwoods and Hayes’ long enough to know a thing or two about charm. He had been imbued with some extra, mercifully.

Now, while the pleasure was undeniable, keeping it from showing too much was the task at hand. Baldric had no idea whether …no. He could not be thinking down those lines. Ben was Keiran’s guest – his friend. Bae knew he was entitled to no place in that uninvited. He didn’t want one, he didn’t think. Merlin, did he? He was probably straight anyway, he told himself. It was useless to dwell on it.

And, just like that, another Gryffindor decided they were going out that weekend. For the sake of sensible thought, Baldric knew he needed to get between the sheets with someone. At least that way he’d be able to look calmly at Ben. That was what was amiss, right? Wasn’t it? He needed a … well, you know. Somehow, Bae didn’t think that was all that was going on.

“We’re passing the kitchens on the way up,” Baldric pointed out conversationally. “If you’re not in too much of a hurry to meet with Kegs then we could nip in there and get the House Elves to rustle up some lunch?”

Something tickled behind Ben's sternum at Baldric's chuckle, which drew the older man's attention from the professor's hair. He nodded along in understanding - at least until Baldric hit upon the topic of a good-looking lady who had joined their staff at the school. He wasn't sure exactly what Baldric thought about that, but perhaps he had read the Gryffindor incorrectly. Damn.

Ah well. That couldn't really be helped, could it? Ben did let his jaw clench for a moment, a muscle in his right cheek jumping before he spread his lips into a smile that felt stronger than Bentley did as a whole.

"Well, Hayes may be rather charming, but if he's got a temper like his mother's side has, I daresay she's a bit in for it. Not that Keiran's mother is... Well, no. She's quite lovely. But her family isn't so much."

Of course, he had never spent enough time with Theodore to size him up, given the Rookwood was several years ahead of him, and Ben had been too absorbed in his future to worry after making friends with the big dogs in his house.

As Baldric swept his arm out, Ben nearly lifted an eyebrow. There was something a little suggestive in the professor's tone, and Ben wasn't sure what he was supposed to get from that, considering the thing that had made him pause before. Maybe he had imagined that undertone.

It didn't matter. Ben was here to get what he needed from Keiran, so he could help Aiden and get back to work and get back to his schedule. Bentley liked his schedule, particularly now that he had his life under control. Well, he liked to think that he did, even if in the moment he felt a bit confused. But he just needed to get to Keiran's office and get the stuff and-

Oh. Well that was interesting. Ben had no idea what to make of that.

He knew what he was supposed to say. What he was supposed to do. He had work to do. Obviously he couldn't stay because that would be inappropriate, and he didn't even think Baldric was interested like he initially felt he might be. No, he had to go see Hayes.

"That would be great," he heard himself saying. Glutton for punishment, Bentley was, apparently. "I can rearrange things."