"I'm--" I mumbled, "sorry."
It was then I felt dejection and realisation weigh down on me. It felt unfair. I wanted my Benedict to be the only Benedict. It annoyed me. 

It annoyed me that his disappearance seemed more real now.

Benedict waved his hand at this, as if swatting a fly. Laughing, he said, "call me Carle, then. That would work."

I tugged at a loose strand of brown hair, the way a sudden, strange sense of curiosity tugged at me. 

"Is it your last name?"

"My middle name. Benedict Carle Innitswen."

"That's a peculiar family name."

Carle laughed and nodded, then showed me a shopping bag.

"You did go on a major spree, huh?"

I flushed red at that moment, for God knows which reason. It didn't seem to be embarrassment, really. 

Carle jerked his head in the direction of the drawer. "All your bags are in there."
"Thank you," I whispered.

"Along with," Carle smiled, "toiletries, and really anything you might need. You can stay here till you feel fine."

Feel fine? I was just drunk. I voiced out my thoughts in my original, monotonous tone; as if the surprising joy wasn't ever there.

Carle answered that he had called the doctor, just to stay on the safe side, and that I had burning temperature, coughing fits, and wheezing. The doctor said it hadn't been related to my drunken state at all; that it was something else entirely, something long-lasting, but in the end temporary. He had advised Carle to care for me for two weeks, at least. Carle's wife had scoured through my belongings, searching for any clue of my address, but had found none.

I nodded, the thought of Catherine and Natalie in the corner of my mind. 

Carle then called for his wife, and she seemed to have been nearby, for she came in less than a minute, standing tall and erect, at the door.

"Meet my wife, Grace."

I observed her; wearing a white dress, and having her hair tied up like the most distinguished ladies of her mother's day. She didn't look like she smiles, her jawbone seemed to have been set in place.

"I prefer Mrs Innitswen."

"Grace nad I will try to be good hosts for the time you're here, Blythe."

It was on the coldest of Autumn days that it started, and I met the man with the warmest of smiles, and a lady with the coldest gaze.