Ben had mostly quit cigarettes since his return from Canada, because it was harder to find them consistently enough to sustain a habit, but he'd dug half a pack out from somewhere and lit one this morning. He was only half smoking it; mostly the embers were just slowly burning it down towards his knuckles while he stared out the window, thinking. He was supposed to be working at the moment. He was set up at the desk in the house's third bedroom (a study for their purposes, though it had most likely been intended as a nursery when Aldous had found the place). The surface was nearly covered with papers — organization had never been his strong suit — but of all the clutter only one letter was on his mind: the description of his son.

He was in quite a bind. He knew writing to her to ask for details at all had been a mistake, particularly with how fragile his relationship with Melody was at present. He'd thought knowing something might help fill that strange aching hole that had opened up in his chest when he thought about having a son out there he'd never met, but it seemed now that it might be unfillable; everything she said only left him wanting more. He'd drafted a response, but hesitated before sending it. Even if the child had been conceived before he'd married Melody, carrying on like this and writing secret letters to the mother felt like cheating.

There was something nagging at him, too. He felt as though he should have known who was writing him, or at least been able to piece it together from the clues she'd given him so far. Healers in the family. He was the only man who'd visited her bed. She'd seen him recently. It felt as though the answer was right there — though what would he do with it if he did know?

He didn't realize Melody had come in until she spoke. He blinked, coming back from deep in thought. There were snowflakes on the windowpanes now; it had started snowing. How long had he been lost in thought?

"Sorry, what?" he asked, shuffling the papers on his desk as though tidying it, though really he was just ensuring the letter from the woman, and his unsent response, were not visible at a glance.