It wasn’t often she had the opportunity to talk with working men, and certainly not about their careers – after all most conversation at a ball was banal – how was the weather, how was so-and-so mutual acquaintance. None of which interested Benevolence in the least, so she tried to engage in it as little as possible. And those that did were usually frightfully boring, or full of a sense of self importance. This gentleman seemed rather the opposite and the elusiveness alone was enough to pique her interest further – damn her Ravenclaw curiosity.

Benevolence opened her mouth to respond but the horse, bored of the conversation that was about him and not too him, or perhaps hoping to punish the brunette for not having more greenery in her basket, neighed loudly and took off at a pace, with Ben’s hand still tucked in the throat latch.

One moment she had been looking at the gentleman, the next thing her arm was jerked from it’s socket and all she saw was sky as her whole body was jerked backwards by the horses dash. Her fingers didn’t respond to her command to open and she was pulled along by the horses bridle.


Faustus Prewett