Blonde’s have all the fun

[Benedict Beckett]

((ooc: I know this is literally months after you posted this but after us planning for Beatrice and Benedict to have dated previously and such I really wanted to write for him and so... here he is! haha feel free to ignore him if you don't want to do this kind of scene any longer. ))

Having been admitted to St Mungo's, purely down to his mother's interference when she'd visited unexpectedly and was horrified to discover how 'ill' he'd made himself, Benedict had spent the last couple of days laying pointlessly in a hospital bed and absolutely hating it. If he could get revenge on his mother for subjecting him to this method of torture then he certainly would. Thankfully, his Healer had noticed his 'I really do wish looks could kill' attitude, when Benedict had given him one of his known 'death glares', and 'seen the light', as it were. The man stood at the foot of his bed, signing off the charts and paperwork that would officially say he was back to health again, and warning him (as usual) to take it easy, try and get some more sleep, eat more regularly and stop counting cigarettes as sustenance instead of food and water which was what his body really needed. He really needn't have bothered. His Healer's advice had fallen, as it always did, on deaf ears as Benedict had merely smiled tightly and said, "Thank you, I shall of course heed your marvellously meticulous advice!" -- it of course being uttered in a cold, extremely sarcastic tone.

Practically jumping out of the bed, glad to get his own clothes back on at last, he dressed in record time, finishing buttoning up his dark purple shirt, grabbing his coat and scarf in one swift movement and strolling out of the hospital room before the Healer had even had chance to leave himself. Tying his scarf round his neck, he likewise shoved his coat on unceremoniously, anxious to be out of this 'godforsaken place' (his words) as soon as humanly possible. Benedict however, stopped dead in his tracks as he realised he'd almost bumped into a blonde girl in his haste to leave. Pausing, barely a ruler length away from her, he stepped back, about to mutter a quick "my apologies" before he brightened, recognising the figure in question. "Ah, Beatrice!" he greeted suddenly, tearing her attention from the files she was flicking through. "Good day to you, how are you, well I hope? I heard you were doing wonderfully well for yourself in this place."

"You've dyed your hair," Benedict commented in the next breath, his speech so continuous that it had hardly given her time to react or even reply. Then, continuing as though musing aloud, rather than directly speaking to her, he commented, "Why would you do that?", an inquisitive, but faraway, look in his eyes before he looked down at her, a quick warm smile flitting across his lips before they were still once more.

[Benedict Beckett]

((ooc: I thought it would be nice and yay I like seeing Beatrice, she's so sweet! ))

As Beatrice said his name a quick smile took to his lips - the briefest, but most, affection he'd probably show in public - when he looked down at her. "Wrong? Nothing is wrong, except perhaps my mother's mental capacity..." he trailed off slightly with a quick roll of his eyes, "She was the one that thought I was looking... what was that delightful expression she used for her beloved son... she thought I looked 'gaunt and haggard'. She subjected me to hospital treatment." The way he said 'treatment' you'd think it was the most horrific thing ever, which, to him, it was! Admitting he needed help, or that he was even ill at all, was one thing Benedict would never do, for the sake of his own dignity and pride. Resuming his usual expression, he nodded as she said she was 'fine', "Good, I am glad to hear it," he replied. Many would perhaps say this was a common courtesy, the usual conversational response to hearing an ex was doing well, but the fact he said it suggested it was more than that. It was genuine and sincere, coming from him, rather than just the expected reply.

"Well now, the rumour mill is quite the telltale, isn't it?" he commented in a light-hearted manner before nodding curtly, "Yes, myself and Evangeline are 'dating', for all intents and purposes of that word, we have been for a short while. Have you met Evangeline?" he asked conversationally. He didn't usual engage in such trivial conversations but he enjoyed Beatrice's company immensely, something which he hadn't made clear enough when they were dating, though he was, of course, quite oblivious to this fact.

Looking down at her then, his thoughts no longer off musing in some faraway place, Benedict opened his mouth to be blunt and then changed tack, pausing before asking, "Would you like my honest opinion?" he said, his nose wrinkling slightly in distaste at himself since he suspected she wouldn't really enjoy hearing his honest opinion on her hair at all. He decided to tone it down a bit. "I think it's very, well, different seeing you as a blonde and it's nice enough but... well I liked you better as a brunette. Sorry," he said shortly. "Did you fall for the 'blondes have more fun' fallacy? I can honestly assure you, from a few years more life experience than yourself, that it's not true at all. We brunettes are just as life-loving," he concluded, in an amused manner, with a smile.