Ben retrieved the drink as Art pointed it out, and took another large sip even though he hardly needed more alcohol so soon after finishing his last. He told himself it was the standard practice of taking a bit off the top of any new drink so you were less likely to spill it; in reality, he was putting off having to say anything for another few seconds. Melody's accusation from their argument before Christmas was ringing in his head: he knows. Ben peered at his friend over the top of his mug as he drank and wondered whether he really did, or whether Melody was being crazy and paranoid. Either were possible. Ben was sure he hadn't told him, but Art wasn't as stupid as some people believed him to be, and he knew Ben well. He and Desdemona had a front row seat to the entire charade that was the Crouch's marriage, so if anyone were to put the pieces together, it might have been him. On the other hand, Melody had a long and proven history of being crazy and paranoid.

Even if Art did know, however, this was not the time or place to bring it up. Too many people here who might overhear, and Ben had learned his lesson from his slightly-too-public conversation with Melody at the Pettigrew Christmas Party. He ought to change the subject, but the first thing that came to mind was No Mrs. Pettigrew this evening? which was just cruel.

He swirled his drink around his mouth, ostensibly savoring the taste but really trying to buy himself time to think of something appropriate to say. He didn't usually have this much trouble making conversation with Art. He didn't usually have any trouble making conversation with Art.

"Why are we even here?" he finally asked, glancing around. "Parties are typically for talking and dancing and we haven't really been doing any of that. We could have done this in my backyard," he pointed out. Though, of course, that would have meant contending with Melody, so... perhaps it was better that they were out, after all.