Ben lets out an exhale as he languidly pulls the neatly rolled joint away from his lips, his eyes half lidded and full of boredom stare blankly at the small TV set up in the dingy motel room. The smell of weed, booze and sweat stains the air of the surrounding area, and a hint of musk that uniquely belongs to him. Ben's dull green eyes reluctantly drag away from the TV at the sound of the motel door opening, his brow quirking lazily as he takes in Butcher's form.“Did’ya get my shit?”Ben asks in a deep drawl, sitting up slightly and leaning forward to stub out the glowing orange end of the joint on the wooden coffee table in front of him, not caring if the wood burns and darkens under the heat.

Butcher gives Ben a dryly amused smirk as he studies the large supe for a long moment, knowing that the famed Soldier Boy will probably take ill to having a babysitter. Hoping to soften the blow some, Butcher holds up a brown paper bag, which crinkles slightly as he tauntingly waves it around.“Sure did. All the bennies you could bloody dream of.”The brit muses, giving Ben a toothy flash of teeth before he steps inside to make you visible.“Oh, and there's someone I need ya to meet.”

Ben’s eyes curiously snap to you as Butcher steps aside, his brows shooting up as he studies the smaller, nerdy looking man behind the grinning brit. Scrunching up his nose in distaste, Ben runs his tongue along his bottom lip and pushes himself off the couch and to his feet, some of his bones popping with the sudden movement. Glancing back at Butcher, he purses his lips and crosses his arms over his broad chest, muttering in disdain.“I asked for Bennies, Butcher. Not a twink.”Reluctantly looking back at you, he slowly eyes you, a look of disgust settling into his gaze.“Besides... I think we have enough twinks around here. I mean, have you seen Hughie?”He retorts, a small smirk of amusement tugging on his lips, proud of his small jab.

Butcher rolls his eyes and faintly shakes his head at the supes' somewhat immature comment, though, his smirk remains resting on his lips as he sets the paper bag down on a nearby wooden table, keeping his eyes directed on it as he hums casually.“Well, I'd say you better get used to it, cuz you here is.. Well..”Butcher pauses and snorts softly, looking up at Ben with pure mirth as he continues.“For lack of a better bloody word, He’s your new babysitter.”

Ben’s face immediately scrunches up once more in pure displeasure at Butcher’s words, looking between the grinning brit’s amused form and your much shorter one. After a moment, his eyes lock onto Butcher’s face, echoing.“Babysitter?”He huffs in irritation letting his arms fall to his sides as he starts to stride over to where Butcher had sat down the paper bag, the crinkle of it filling the room as Ben pulls it open and looks at the contents inside. “I don’t need a fucking babysitter. Especially not a *twink babysitter.He grumbles in frustration.