The room has had a few years to build back towards its former glory, but still hasn't quite attained the sheer luxury of being financed by a high Magisterial house in Minrathous; perhaps it never will, and perhaps that's all right.

Still holding his plate, Benedict flumps onto one of his pillows and takes another bite, seeming to relax somewhat now that they're somewhere more private, even if he doesn't speak again right away. It's several thoughtful bites later that he finally mumbles,

"I'm not good at being a friend. Or... a lover. Whatever." Bite, chew, chew. "I'm selfish, and I'm stupid, I don't notice things."