Jesus. Benjamin thought to himself.
He watched the chaos that unfolded before him with a straight face. Each fight revealed a little about each candidate and he was picking up on their personalities easily enough. With his fencing gear stowed away in his bag he sat on a chair, legs crossed and right elbow on the back, to settle and watch. Daisuke was interesting to say the least, in reflection. The Ten-year bazooka brought some questions to his mind. Something that could be so easily exploited, just around. It was danger to play with time. Jak and Abby had seemed fearsome for a moment but they quickly broke their noses, or at least coerced blood from them. He shouldn't have been as surprised as he was at their performance as a whole but he was taken aback that candidates for a family associated with Sonya and Hajime weren't... Already more capable. Not to say he himself was an expert, in fact, that added to the fact. But what interested him very quickly was Cyril's scene. He'd be lying if he said watching the boy get punched wasn't pleasing as all get out. Naoto stepped in and his heart was in the right place but perhaps it wasn't facing the right direction. Cyril wasn't all wrong here. There had been some pitiful attempts and that had to be stated. Just not so aggressively. Benjamin made the executive decision to continue sitting by the hole in the wall and simply listening. Nothing he did or said would calm anyone down, anyways. Not to mention, he'd heard Sonya. This wasn't his task.