Benedict certainly looks the part, and the other's coat is removed and Silver gets a better glance at the other's body, lithe and supple. there's hardly any muscle on him, but he doesn't seem scrawny. He looks good, even if Silver fights the urge to roll his eyes at the bee motif. Rich people.

"I'm uncertain you'd be truly pleased with the proper answer," he says simply, because he's killed far too many men with that cutlass alone. Benedict is a good man, but naive, and he hardly thinks letting the other know that he's very aware of how blood tastes when it gets in his mouth during a skirmish, or the true distress of seeing the life leave someone else's eyes.

"Come here," he says softly, and once the other is close enough Silver eases him down so he's sitting next to him. He scoots a bit closer, and puts a warm hand over Benedict's, testing the water and adjusting the other's grip.

"You're holding it like it's a duel. Allow me."