[ Benny tips his head slightly, watching Jack with a sort of quiet amusement before flicking his eyes back to the pool, scanning it like it’s a museum exhibit and not a weird liminal pocket of time and space. That wonder, that need to believe something good might come of this...Benny doesn’t have it. Not really. But he sure as hell envies it. ]

Maybe I do.

[ Fifty years in Purgatory left a lot of grooves carved into him, patterns he still slips into without meaning to. The main goal there had been survive. Here, he has no idea what the hell to do with his hands. Or teeth.

At the last part, Benny snorts into his glass, setting it down with a soft thump on the bartop before snatching it away when Thomas draws near with a too wide grin. He grabs the liquor bottle, refills his own damn glass. The drawl thickens slightly, like molasses, laced with humor. ]

Suspicious as hell. You're not wrong, though. I'd be curious if there was another like me.

[ Jack certainly exists, and that changes what’s possible. It’s not all that ridiculous to think there’s others like Benny here, hiding in the shadows just the same. ]

Always good to know if I'm not the only thing lurkin’ in the woods.