Mordecai stared at the wall in front of him, counting each brick only to loose track again. He leaned back and let out a drawn out sigh as he raked a wing through his feathers. It was his fault no one knew where Benson was. He shouldn't of interrupted his boss' special night.
He ruined everything the poor guy had worked for, literally, for so many tiring years.
The heavy feeling of guilt seemed to push down on his shoulders, and Mordecai couldn't push it off. God, because of him, Benson wouldn't get that stupid piece of crap watch! He felt himself growl. Why did he have to make Benson's life so difficult? It seemed like anything he did added another grey gum-ball to his head, another crack in his dome.
"... He may've died..."
His thoughts were interrupted by someone's random mumble, which had been part of a conversation he tuned out. Dead? Benson? Shit. That didn't cross his mind. A new sense of dread flooded over him and pushed out anything else. What if Benson really died? It would be because of Mordecai, at least he thought so. He tried to warn Benson, but he could've been more convincing. He could have stopped it.
The jail cell was full of chatter, but he could hear nothing but his own blame.