[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/221018/cb9cebc0df27fd266abf83f3ea87bedf.png[/img]
[b][color=B19666]Wordage:[/color][/b] [i]Less than 750 (+1 points)[/i]
[b][color=B19666]Experience:[/color][/b] [i]6/10 EXP[/i]
[b][color=B19666]Location:[/color][/b] [i]Kunad Highway -> Midgar[/i][/center]

Something felt different, but what had changed wasn't all that clear to the likes of Benedict. Doubtless it had to be something to do with whatever Roxas had done to him, the boy had blathered on about freeing him and such. What could that have meant? He wasn't under the impression he had been under any spell or some kind of trick, for all he knew they had cast some sort of ill magic upon him.

Benedict rubbed his wrist, staring out the window towards the streets of Midgar below [i]'[color=B19666]Clearly these people are not who they seem.[/color]'[/i] the strategist thought to himself, they had arrived not that long ago within the great city. A couple of the group had approached him on the way there yet all were met by stony silence. 

He knew it folly to reveal important information to those who stood to gain from it, especially if said people were not one's own allies. He had no chance of escape, that was certain as he was simply outnumbered and outmatched. If he stood any chance to figure out any possible way to slip away, Benedict was going to have to wait and bide his time.

With a sideways glance the strategist met the concerned gaze of Goldlewis with a cold stare from behind his spectacles, he betrayed no signs of concern for the situation he was in just a wall of practiced apathy. Yet the sides of his mouth subtly twitched at the indignity of the red-headed woman, Giovanna. 

Benedict wasn't entirely sure what they were referring to as the topic of the Guardian came up but he made a mental note to be sure to learn of it when it was imperative to do so. He didn't doubt it was unwise to speak so openly before him, but something told him it was not all that scrupulous in the end. He simply stood before the windows in the small conference room, Benedict's hands laced together behind his back as he listened in on the conversation. When Ever Crisis was brought up he didn't bother hiding the disapproving shake of his head at the mention of the organisation, whom were ironically [i]ever[/i] a problem to the cityscape and it's internal affairs. "[color=B19666]Nothing but terrorists[/color]" the Turk muttered to himself quietly, to put it plainly they were the thorn in Midgar's proverbial behind and caused nothing but problems for public officials like him.