Ben's bulky body sat in the chair handcuffed, an awkward paradox. The fisherman had turned his face away from Elijah and looked towards the door, although he was listening. His eyes narrowed and he drew his upper lip up a little with disgust. "Then how about ye stop wastin' time, and do what ye need to do? " he grunted, still not looking at the young man on the other side of the desk. "'cause I ain't sorry for punching that..." The handcuffs rattled as he cleched his fists. "... that boar, that snake. T' hell with 'im." He grimaced.