[ He has long ago ceased being surprised by the lack of formality between members of this habble, even the new arrivals. Why, there are quite a few of his compatriots whose surnames are a mystery to him, for all that they've been more or less living together for over a year. (Have they, though?) When she tells him to use her given name to address her, he nods a little. ] I am Benedict, [ he replies, the "obviously" quite clear in his tone.

He follows her gaze to the sleepy little bees crawling over his hands and sipping from the bowl, their little abdomens bouncing happily as they discover their treat. Soon, he will be covered with bees, as those who have drunk their fill return to the hives to tell the others the good news, but he's used to that, and is expecting it. ] There's no need to be frightened, [ he says in that quiet, absent sort of tone one might use when observing a beloved pet doing something peaceful like napping in a sunbeam. ] They're still waking up from their hibernation, they won't bother you. It's been a long winter for them. I thought a little treat might help them get their feet beneath them.