"I was at a party recently, and in an attempt to find a room for myself and a lady, I in fact stumbled upon another friend of mine with another man. And rather than be scandalized by it, all I wanted in that moment was to continue watching. Perhaps I could be perfectly content with only women, but I don't think that I would be perfectly happy."
Benedict takes a long drag, and then he exhales the cloud of smoke, letting the pause stretch out.
Not that Benedict can say anyone's ever really asked it of him. There's Anthony, who sacrifices his own happiness for all of them to have theirs, and of course they would all fight however they could to ensure the happiness of their sisters and of little Gregory. Even Colin, it seems, falls on the radar more than he himself does. Second son that he is and all.
"If I were to tell them of my newfound proclivities, I know in my heart they wouldn't turn me out. Perhaps they might not understand it, or they might not even approve of it, but they'd never let me suffer for it. And I'd never let them suffer for it, either."
Silver shakes his head, as if the entire thing was prepostrous. While he understands it's not, it seems far out of reach for him. In a world where someone cared enough about that...
Something Benedict says earlier, it still eats at him. 'It might ruin a man entirely here.' That's what happened to Flint, hadn't it? His entire life in flames because he loved someone not of his status, that he fought and the world tore them apart, so much so that an entire island think that Long John Silver is responsible for the death of one of the best pirates in the colonies.
"I never understood wanting to be a part of a world in which you're not free." His voice is soft, contemplative.
It seems so strange saying it out loud, to Silver no less. He’s vaguely discussed it with Eloise but he’s never been so blunt about it.
“It’s not the idea of it I mind so much. I like the civility, of men behaving with honour and respect. But I go to these parties where there’s every class and no one gives a damn, and I’m so envious of the artists that get to create what speaks to them, with no worry of gossip or scandal. Some proper gentlemen create just fine under the constraints of society but I wonder if that’s what’s truly stifling me.”
Benedict takes one last puff and puts out cigarette.
“I realize I must sound petulant. I’m not ungrateful for what I’ve got, I’m just not entirely sure how I’m meant to fit into it all.”
Silver understands that. If Silver understands anything, it's that, and as Benedict speaks he looks at the other, eyeing his profile, and he finds he's not reading the other's facial expressions analytically but instead catches himself thinking of how damnably impeccable the other is.
"There is no civility in Nassau," Silver confesses. "But there is freedom. You choose who to follow."
"I'm no lord," Silver reassures, the kiss warm and pleasant. He finds Benedict's words still somewhat confusing. Is this what it's like, to be truly naive? To believe there is the best of both of their worlds?
... Hadn't Thomas Hamilton, according to Flint? Hadn't he believed there was, and hadn't that been one of his downfalls?
"For a man with civility, you certainly conduct yourself with wild abandon. Perhaps you're going to be the one to kidnap me and sell me for ransom." He's amused, and strangely flattered.
"I'm not pretending to be anyone but myself," he reasons. "And neither are you. Perhaps that's the difference."
“Mr. Silver, if there were some way for me to successfully kidnap you, I’d certainly prefer to keep you for myself. It’s not as if I need to profit off a ransom.”
Benedict wonders how much he might be able to keep kissing the pirate. He isn’t sure if they’ll call for them or send someone to fetch them, or if they ought to go back in themselves sooner than later.
“Might I be able to come to you later this evening? Once you’ve returned to your tavern and everyone settles here for the night.”
It's Silvers turn, with a quick glance around the place until he takes the other's wrist in a soft, loose grip.
"You may have to play a round or two of cards before the men will let you up the stairs. Is it the thrill?" He asks, pulling him just a little closer, making sure the other leans from where Silver has been hunched over, and because he can, he kisses the other softly. "Or is it the difference in our worlds?"
“I would perhaps argue that any entanglement presents a thrill that can’t be ignored,” he counters, taking another kiss for himself.
Benedict certainly doesn’t think there’s an attachment forming. As Silver’s pointed out, there’s from vastly different worlds, and eventually Silver will return to Nassau. But there’s no reason they can’t take pleasures while they’re presented the opportunity.
“Must there be some excuse beyond the reason that I enjoy your company, or that you’re undoubtedly the most attractive man I’ve ever seen.”
Silver has promised Max he'd behave, which is exactly why he's not setting Benedict on his lap and running his hand through that short hair, savouring it, lips against the curve of his neck.
He wants to, though, and he's unafraid of the hungry look he gives Benedict. He wants a strong drink and a quick fuck, and he wants Benedict in both cases.
"There's always an excuse beyond the reason, Benedict." He doesn't seem like he's accusing Benedict of having ulterior motives--just that it's a fact of life, and he puts a hand on the other's hip idly, a small smirk on his lips.
"For instance, I'm here because Max apparently needed a gentleman escort, and the only one she could find was one with one leg. But I also came here to see you."
Benedict will hold that with him for a while - that Silver came not only to accompany his friend, but to see him. He's impossibly delighted that he's made some sort of impact on the other man, even if it's purely a physical longing and nothing more.
"And what should it matter? Unless you're trying to deter me from seeing you, which I assure you will only make me long to see you more."
"On the contrary, I think you're the best thing this fucking city has to offer." Silver allows himself to look the other over, pointedly, pleased. It's true. He hates London, hates the weather and the people and the pomp and circumstance, but he finds himself awfully drawn to Benedict. That maybe this whole place isn't so fucking terrible if one person is in it.
Jesus. This had to have been what Flint felt like.
"How long is it customary to stay at a dinner?" He asks.
"Until it feels as though you've overstayed your welcome. And I daresay, I'm starting to feel that you have."
Benedict is smiling as he stands, clearly just teasing because the sooner Silver leaves the sooner Benedict can follow. But it seems to be well-timed, as Eloise's voice comes from the house stating that Max is ready to retire and is waiting for Silver.
It's such a small thing, offering for help--Silver usually denies it, usually has to make a point. His disability is not a weakness, nor does he allow anyone to view it as such. He's fought and fought hard to be viewed as someone of power.
It's different, though, alone. And it's different with Benedict. He finds himself taking his hand, inhaling as he moves.
"Perhaps you should see to it that Max and I get home safely," he states, mischief in his eyes. Of course they'd be able to--crutch or not, Silver has a knife in his boot and another one in his jacket almost at all times.
Benedict's own look in return is just as playful. He takes one more kiss, mindful to keep himself from getting too much irritation from Silver's facial hair (which Benedict quite likes, but if his mother thinks he's taking ill or something, he'll never get out of the house). Heading inside, he tells his mother he'll see to it that Max and Silver get to their lodging all right, as he's got another engagement to get to anyway. It's not really a lie - his engagement just happens to also be at Silver's lodgings.
The ride to the tavern isn't exactly awkward, but Max has a knowing look about her that Benedict both admires and feels unsettled by. There's moderate small talk and the carriage jostles a bit, so his leg keeps brushing against Silver's, but they get there eventually. And because Benedict is with them, he doesn't get accosted into playing cards, though he does pause a moment.
Max is polite enough, small talk being a surprisingly strong suit with her, and Silver's content to join in on occasion. It's when they're at the inn that Silver truly feels some form of relax--maybe it's DeGroot in a heated debate with a younger member of Rackham's crew, or perhaps it's Featherstone and Mulaney in what appears to be a drinking contest, but he feels like home.
The sounds, at least, are almost like Nassau. It's missing some whores, sadly. and the heat. And the smell, although the pirates are doing a fairly good job at it. Anne is in the corner with Rackham, Anne scowling and Jack talking--a normal picture.
After all, he's here, why not sit down for a drink? Maybe it endear him a bit to the men who otherwise think so little of him, and maybe, most importantly, it will endear him more towards Silver.
"I do think you're far too delicate," Silver teases, but he's already putting his crutch up on a nearby table, bracing himself against the back of the chair to ease himself into it. He's extremely aware of the odd looks Benedict has been getting on and off--not bad, but he's with Silver and that has some of Rackham's man curious--Idelle has spotted this already, one of the very few women in the room, and is already sliding some ale their way. The bartender looks overworked and more than just a little scared, the tavern serving girl as well, even though there's no overt violence or any leering. It's part and parcel for having a crew of "former" pirates who also have a tendency to be very loud and very uncaring towards anyone but themselves.
"That," Silver says once Idelle drops off their pints, "is Idelle, Mr. Featherstone's wife. Featherstone is the Governer of Nassau." His lips quirk. "Technically."
Benedict sits as well, letting his gaze sweep the tavern but not letting his eye contact linger too long. He wraps his hand around his jug of ale, looking at both Idelle (in thanks) and at Featherstone.
"Which would explain why Max is making the rounds with London's elite and not Mr. Featherstone."
The corner of his mouth quirks up and he takes a sip of the ale, and the taste is awful. Not at all like what Benedict is used to, but he knows he'll get used to it after a few more tastes. He hopes.
Silver's smile grows fond. Benedict only has a small sip, but while he's talked, Silver has completely drained his drink as if it was a warm day and it was a cool glass of water.
"Max... There is never a more terrifying force on this earth," he says simply. He means it, too--sincerely. "Most of the crew Rackham has is fairly decent," he says simply. "He has a good crew." Silver, Max, Idelle and Featherstone had simply hitched a ride for their own agendas. Silver most of all, which brings him to a slow thought.
"How involved are the Bridgertons in the politics about the colonies, by the way?" Is he fishing as he waves the serving girl down for another drink? Absolutely. A game of cards has broken out at the able nearby, and though Silver holds Benedicts' gaze, he's listening intently.
He tries the ale again, taking a much bolder sip and forcing it down. He thinks he prefers the burn of the rum over this, but he's loathe to look a fool - less in front of Silver and more in front of all the men who keep glancing his way.
"Truthfully? I don't think it crosses our minds much. Anthony, of course, knows many men at the club and it's likely he's spoken to those with interest. Of course we enjoy the imports much like everyone else." The tobacco, for one thing, which is in Benedict's cigarettes. "Our wealth comes primarily from more local business, and our acquaintanceship with the royal family is simply nothing more than that."
It was worth a shot, though a part of Silver finds himself relieved. He's come to like Benedict in their few interactions, and having to use him to further his gain seems like such a waste of a perfectly good fuck buddy situation.
Instead, he finds himself wondering if Benedict is aware that the vast majority of tabacco and sugar and rum he's had are most likely stolen or fought over with blood. How a simple barrel of goods can make or break someone like Silver, if they're not careful.
Maybe there are some things he'd be better to find out. He leans back.
"You want to ingragiate yourself towards this crew, correct?"
Benedict looks amused as he tries more of the ale, wanting to simply get through it.
"Rather, I simply want to not cross them somehow. For the sake of my own self-preservation."
Since he's certain that no matter how much they respect Silver, one accidental move could cause him significant harm, and he can't entirely count on Silver coming to his rescue. Though maybe, being a gentleman of London society, the governor and Max might have some say in keeping him unharmed. For the sake of the colony.
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Benedict takes a long drag, and then he exhales the cloud of smoke, letting the pause stretch out.
"I'd let you do it again."
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He looks over at the other, smile forming, blue eyes amused he watches the other smoke.
"Your family cares about it? Your happiness."
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Not that Benedict can say anyone's ever really asked it of him. There's Anthony, who sacrifices his own happiness for all of them to have theirs, and of course they would all fight however they could to ensure the happiness of their sisters and of little Gregory. Even Colin, it seems, falls on the radar more than he himself does. Second son that he is and all.
"If I were to tell them of my newfound proclivities, I know in my heart they wouldn't turn me out. Perhaps they might not understand it, or they might not even approve of it, but they'd never let me suffer for it. And I'd never let them suffer for it, either."
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Something Benedict says earlier, it still eats at him. 'It might ruin a man entirely here.' That's what happened to Flint, hadn't it? His entire life in flames because he loved someone not of his status, that he fought and the world tore them apart, so much so that an entire island think that Long John Silver is responsible for the death of one of the best pirates in the colonies.
"I never understood wanting to be a part of a world in which you're not free." His voice is soft, contemplative.
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It seems so strange saying it out loud, to Silver no less. He’s vaguely discussed it with Eloise but he’s never been so blunt about it.
“It’s not the idea of it I mind so much. I like the civility, of men behaving with honour and respect. But I go to these parties where there’s every class and no one gives a damn, and I’m so envious of the artists that get to create what speaks to them, with no worry of gossip or scandal. Some proper gentlemen create just fine under the constraints of society but I wonder if that’s what’s truly stifling me.”
Benedict takes one last puff and puts out cigarette.
“I realize I must sound petulant. I’m not ungrateful for what I’ve got, I’m just not entirely sure how I’m meant to fit into it all.”
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"There is no civility in Nassau," Silver confesses. "But there is freedom. You choose who to follow."
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Benedict flashes an amused sort of smile. Then, maybe feeling emboldened by their earlier admittances, he leans over to press a kiss to Silver’s lips.
“For a man without civility, you certainly conduct yourself better than some of the refined lords I’ve met.”
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... Hadn't Thomas Hamilton, according to Flint? Hadn't he believed there was, and hadn't that been one of his downfalls?
"For a man with civility, you certainly conduct yourself with wild abandon. Perhaps you're going to be the one to kidnap me and sell me for ransom." He's amused, and strangely flattered.
"I'm not pretending to be anyone but myself," he reasons. "And neither are you. Perhaps that's the difference."
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Benedict wonders how much he might be able to keep kissing the pirate. He isn’t sure if they’ll call for them or send someone to fetch them, or if they ought to go back in themselves sooner than later.
“Might I be able to come to you later this evening? Once you’ve returned to your tavern and everyone settles here for the night.”
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"You may have to play a round or two of cards before the men will let you up the stairs. Is it the thrill?" He asks, pulling him just a little closer, making sure the other leans from where Silver has been hunched over, and because he can, he kisses the other softly. "Or is it the difference in our worlds?"
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Benedict certainly doesn’t think there’s an attachment forming. As Silver’s pointed out, there’s from vastly different worlds, and eventually Silver will return to Nassau. But there’s no reason they can’t take pleasures while they’re presented the opportunity.
“Must there be some excuse beyond the reason that I enjoy your company, or that you’re undoubtedly the most attractive man I’ve ever seen.”
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He wants to, though, and he's unafraid of the hungry look he gives Benedict. He wants a strong drink and a quick fuck, and he wants Benedict in both cases.
"There's always an excuse beyond the reason, Benedict." He doesn't seem like he's accusing Benedict of having ulterior motives--just that it's a fact of life, and he puts a hand on the other's hip idly, a small smirk on his lips.
"For instance, I'm here because Max apparently needed a gentleman escort, and the only one she could find was one with one leg. But I also came here to see you."
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Benedict will hold that with him for a while - that Silver came not only to accompany his friend, but to see him. He's impossibly delighted that he's made some sort of impact on the other man, even if it's purely a physical longing and nothing more.
"And what should it matter? Unless you're trying to deter me from seeing you, which I assure you will only make me long to see you more."
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Jesus. This had to have been what Flint felt like.
"How long is it customary to stay at a dinner?" He asks.
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Benedict is smiling as he stands, clearly just teasing because the sooner Silver leaves the sooner Benedict can follow. But it seems to be well-timed, as Eloise's voice comes from the house stating that Max is ready to retire and is waiting for Silver.
"My point stands."
He reaches out a hand to help the pirate up.
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It's different, though, alone. And it's different with Benedict. He finds himself taking his hand, inhaling as he moves.
"Perhaps you should see to it that Max and I get home safely," he states, mischief in his eyes. Of course they'd be able to--crutch or not, Silver has a knife in his boot and another one in his jacket almost at all times.
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Benedict's own look in return is just as playful. He takes one more kiss, mindful to keep himself from getting too much irritation from Silver's facial hair (which Benedict quite likes, but if his mother thinks he's taking ill or something, he'll never get out of the house). Heading inside, he tells his mother he'll see to it that Max and Silver get to their lodging all right, as he's got another engagement to get to anyway. It's not really a lie - his engagement just happens to also be at Silver's lodgings.
The ride to the tavern isn't exactly awkward, but Max has a knowing look about her that Benedict both admires and feels unsettled by. There's moderate small talk and the carriage jostles a bit, so his leg keeps brushing against Silver's, but they get there eventually. And because Benedict is with them, he doesn't get accosted into playing cards, though he does pause a moment.
"Shall we have a drink?"
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The sounds, at least, are almost like Nassau. It's missing some whores, sadly. and the heat. And the smell, although the pirates are doing a fairly good job at it. Anne is in the corner with Rackham, Anne scowling and Jack talking--a normal picture.
Silver's brow raises as Benedict asks.
"Can you handle it?" He teases.
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After all, he's here, why not sit down for a drink? Maybe it endear him a bit to the men who otherwise think so little of him, and maybe, most importantly, it will endear him more towards Silver.
"Or do you think I'm far too delicate?"
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"That," Silver says once Idelle drops off their pints, "is Idelle, Mr. Featherstone's wife. Featherstone is the Governer of Nassau." His lips quirk. "Technically."
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"Which would explain why Max is making the rounds with London's elite and not Mr. Featherstone."
The corner of his mouth quirks up and he takes a sip of the ale, and the taste is awful. Not at all like what Benedict is used to, but he knows he'll get used to it after a few more tastes. He hopes.
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"Max... There is never a more terrifying force on this earth," he says simply. He means it, too--sincerely. "Most of the crew Rackham has is fairly decent," he says simply. "He has a good crew." Silver, Max, Idelle and Featherstone had simply hitched a ride for their own agendas. Silver most of all, which brings him to a slow thought.
"How involved are the Bridgertons in the politics about the colonies, by the way?" Is he fishing as he waves the serving girl down for another drink? Absolutely. A game of cards has broken out at the able nearby, and though Silver holds Benedicts' gaze, he's listening intently.
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"Truthfully? I don't think it crosses our minds much. Anthony, of course, knows many men at the club and it's likely he's spoken to those with interest. Of course we enjoy the imports much like everyone else." The tobacco, for one thing, which is in Benedict's cigarettes. "Our wealth comes primarily from more local business, and our acquaintanceship with the royal family is simply nothing more than that."
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Instead, he finds himself wondering if Benedict is aware that the vast majority of tabacco and sugar and rum he's had are most likely stolen or fought over with blood. How a simple barrel of goods can make or break someone like Silver, if they're not careful.
Maybe there are some things he'd be better to find out. He leans back.
"You want to ingragiate yourself towards this crew, correct?"
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Benedict looks amused as he tries more of the ale, wanting to simply get through it.
"Rather, I simply want to not cross them somehow. For the sake of my own self-preservation."
Since he's certain that no matter how much they respect Silver, one accidental move could cause him significant harm, and he can't entirely count on Silver coming to his rescue. Though maybe, being a gentleman of London society, the governor and Max might have some say in keeping him unharmed. For the sake of the colony.
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