[When Antonio mentions his knuckles, Benjamin lifts his hand and turns it over.
This close, the knobs of his knuckles are clearly dry and split from the friction against the leather, but the damage is fairly superficial, barely any fresh blood welling up to replace the blood smeared across his knuckles and the punching bag.
Still, the sight of the blood on his knuckles reminds him of the feeling, the sound of Higgins' face shattering beneath his punches. Somehow, Benjamin goes even paler.
Someone replies:]
Perhaps so.
[But he doesn't seem to be aware that it was him.]
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This close, the knobs of his knuckles are clearly dry and split from the friction against the leather, but the damage is fairly superficial, barely any fresh blood welling up to replace the blood smeared across his knuckles and the punching bag.
Still, the sight of the blood on his knuckles reminds him of the feeling, the sound of Higgins' face shattering beneath his punches. Somehow, Benjamin goes even paler.
Someone replies:]
Perhaps so.
[But he doesn't seem to be aware that it was him.]