Ben nodded, ignoring the hesitant way Art had answered. He was ignoring a lot, at the moment, in order to just focus on the fact that Art was here, which was good. Well, ignoring was the wrong word. Ben was noticing all of it, and cataloguing it; collecting evidence and trying to deduce just what had happened and how bad things were. He wasn't responding to any of it, though. Not the weird energy or the disheveled look, not the slight shake he noticed in Art's hands, not any of it. His approach tonight had something in common with the way he'd handled frightened animals when he'd been abroad in America and pretending to be writing a book on magizoology. One wrong move, and Art might spook and bolt.

He went to the bar and put down a Muggle coin in exchange for another pint of the same nondescript beer he was drinking. He glanced back at the booth more than once while he was waiting for it to get poured, just to make sure Art hadn't thought better of this and decided to leave. He was too focused on that to think much about how he was actually going to start the conversation, once he returned with the beer. Ben could just keep ignoring things, he supposed. He could tell Art about fighting with Melody and how he was right that Ben should have told her before the duel, and about the weird cryptic book thing, and he could just wait it out and see if Art wanted to bring something up on his own. Art might not, though. He hadn't for months, and Ben knew it had to have been going on at least since he'd walked the wrong way out of their parlor in January. Maybe longer, maybe not.

"It's not great beer," Ben said a little apologetically as he set it down in front of Art and slid back into his side of the booth. "But it's something to drink."