Benedict continues to frown at her, despite her reassurance that all is well, totally unsure of all this even though she seems blithely unconcerned with the fangs that will be making very close friends with rather intimate parts of her anatomy.

"You don't know that," he responds somewhat peevishly, "I haven't done anything yet."

She might make sounds of agony, she doesn't know.

Still, he obligingly lets her part his lips, her thumb slipping between them so she can poke and prod at his canine teeth. Benedict is scrupulously careful about his teeth nearly every moment of the day. It is one of the reasons he is so soft-spoken, why he murmurs asides to those around him instead of loudly declaring his thoughts, why he smiles with his lips together and huffs quiet laughs through his nose instead of braying out his amusement with the unselfconscious abandon of humans. There is nothing he can do to hide his eyes, short of wearing sungoggles day in and day out, but at least he can keep others' attention away from his mouth.