[He looks up at his friend, when Antonio reaches to smack his hands apart, like he's about to ask 'didn't you hear me?' before he's struck dumb by the fact that Antonio could hear that and still...want to help him.

He's silent as well, aside from a hiss of pain when the antiseptic first makes contact with the wound. Antonio's hands are soft and delicate next to his, his fingers long and nimble and unscarred. Benjamin's feel the size of bin lids in comparison, broad and callused in ways he can remember being confused by when he first woke up in the academy, ways that make all too much sense, now.]

...It was a man. Daniel O'Higgins. I knew him when he was a starving scrap of a thing, took pity on him and paid him fifteen shillings a week to sweep hair off the floor of my shop.

He recognized me, when I came back to London. Tried to blackmail me.