(told through mordecai.)

Who is he, the man with the name.

Oh how he stands, so bored he remains

How I wish I was with him.

But that would seem weird,

I'm nothing to the man

I'm nothing to him

Just a worker, a player in his court.

I only fool

To grab his heart

But it only makes him fall apart.

This job that stands

To get things done

Has never worked on my part of the sun.

Oh he is the moon, so fierce so silent.

This man, this man,

He is no wolf.

But perhaps, just a sheep.

A sheep in wolves clothing.

Just a disguise,

But it's not working.

...

I shut my note book and shove it into my bed side table. This man, was Benson. I know it was bad. I know that work relationships are not correct.

But damn this man is always correct.