[Bennett matches the Nameless' gaze with mute horror, concern and something a lot like awe. There is so much more here than he could have guessed originally. His mind is running at a hundred miles a minute, trying to dig back into half-remembered texts that he knew sat at home on his library wall, through old catalogues and databases he'd compiled over the years of phenomena... all in hopes of identifying exactly what Hound had run afoul of, what exactly was cursing him this way.

Ben's fingertips brush at Hound's when he takes the paper back, and his breath doesn't quite catch up to his desire to speak.]

H-hound. Hound, thank you. I-- I'm sorry to put you through the trouble of....

[What? Hound's not done anything but quizzed him, berated him and looked mildly hurt at various lines of questioning.]

...a-all of this.

[But still.]

It, it means a lot, really. Thank you.

[He has to figure out how to help you.]