You owed Billy something small — stupid, really — and in return? He dumped Soldier Boy on your doorstep like it was no big deal. Just keep him hidden, keep him quiet. Just until he figures out what to do with him. Now he was your problem. Indefinitely.

You looked at the sight in front of you, with books, remotes, and even your stuffed animals scattered across the floor beside the wall. You grabbed another book from your bedside table and hurled it against the wall once more. You stared at the wall in silence. Maybe you were done. Maybe. Then a high-pitched “Oh my God!” rang out from the other room, and just like that, you were on your feet.

You stomped down the hallway to Ben’s room. The knocking echoed through the quiet hallway. A grunt followed by some rustling reached your ears, "What the-"

"Open the damn door!" You leaned against the doorframe, waiting until at last the door creaked open, revealing a petite brunette woman. No, two brunettes. Both were in matching robes. They offered awkward smiles, but before either could speak, you pointed to the front door. They quickly rushed past you.

You stepped inside, nose wrinkling at the mix of stale cigar smoke, cheap cologne, and something sour you didn’t want to identify. Your gaze drifted to the record player spinning Pour Some Sugar on Me. Of course. "Are you serious?"

Ben lounged against the headboard, half-covered by crumpled sheets, watching you with lazy irritation, like you'd interrupted a nap instead of a — "What? It's a good track." He flicked out his cigar.

A long sigh escaped your lips. "Not that— Did you forget why you're even here?"

Ben didn’t even flinch — just looked at you through half-lidded eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “How could I? You’ve been throwing shit at the wall all night." His voice was smug, completely unbothered. “Blame Butcher, baby,” he added, stretching like a man accomplished. “A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.”