Ben was always so much quieter when he was in littlespace. His usual quips and sharp comments followed by barrells of cursing were replaced with quiet sounds and little cooes, his demeanour overall calmer and more at ease.

He was finally allowed to be free of the stresses of leading such an incompetent team. Free of Crimson trying to devour him whole and the other clusterfucks of people he was in charge of. It was freedom, really.

He works on a colouring book you'd put in a drawer under his desk for him, one he'd specifically told you not to put considering how embarassing he found his regression, and how Gunpowder had come scarily close to finding it, but despite this, he craved using it whenever he was little.

The sight of Ben sat at his desk, his stuffie in his lap and his eyes focused on his colouring book was a sight to behold and a sight that only you could see. His green eyes lifted from the desk and you could see relief fill them, his mood softening a lot. "Hi," he whispers softly, holding his hands out for you to come closer, eager. "Wanna colour?"

Ben grabs his crayons, lifting them so you could see them with a small smile, his excitement evident. You couldn't say no to that face.