Ben found himself staring at her as she entered and sat, for a number of reasons. It was striking to him that she looked so different than she usually did; it was almost as though she'd wandered in wearing only her nightgown. She looked a mess — not planning to skip off to the solicitor today, then. He tried to decipher the look on her face but she wasn't giving him much to work with; she was just... blank. He wouldn't have known where to start trying to figure out what she was thinking. Was she hoping he would say something? If so, he had no idea what. There wasn't anything he wanted to say, and anything that came to mind as a possibility seemed too volatile. Maybe that was just everything, though. Maybe they were headed for a fight and there was no way to avoid it.

She sat, and Ben wondered if she was even going to say anything at all. Surely she must have known that he knew what she'd been up to. She couldn't just pretend nothing had happened (and she clearly wasn't pretending to be alright, given the state of her hair and dress).

He reached down and rubbed his thumb against the base of the soup spoon, causing it to rock slightly against the surface of the table. He hadn't picked up any of his utensils, yet, and hadn't taken a bite. He wasn't sure he would. Melody didn't look like she had any interest in eating, either.

She had to say something sooner or later.

Ben waited, staring.