Opening his mouth, Benedict shoots Abby a glare, but the retort dies on his lips and becomes a scowl instead. He hunches his shoulders, directing his sulky gaze to the table instead.
"I have," he mumbles, "it's not... the same." She hit a sore spot, perhaps.
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"I have," he mumbles, "it's not... the same." She hit a sore spot, perhaps.