Benjamin
"Oh. Well, I lied." He chuckled and took another sip from his wine. Truly, every part of that story was a lie except for the most barebone details, such as it being an autumn day, and him being stabbed by someone he assumed was a friend. However, the truth was a bit more boring and grim than the lie that the Drama had told, and, thus, didn't make for a good story. That's why the Drama lied about it in the first place.

"I ask because it has a tendency to hurt every now and then, because it never healed correctly. It actually aches now somewhat, and it had me thinking about it." He lied about it aching, though the tendency to hurt was very true. However, it usually only seemed to affect Adrian, not the Drama. They both always found this odd, but could never come to a conclusion as to why.

"It's true that I was stabbed by a... *Friend*, though use that word lightly. As Ad-" He cut himself off, tossing Amos a small-ish hint about another lie he'd been told, though not making it quite as obvious. "As I told you before I was an orphan on the streets of Salvania for a time, and while I was on those streets many people came and went from our little "Family"- that's what we called ourselves at the time." He introduced the story simply, cutting out unnecessary, flavorful details that he would normally tell, trying to hurry the story along.

"For a time, maybe about a week or so, these two kids came to us and broke bread with us. However, after that week or so, they cornered me specifically into an alley for what little money I had on me. Being the stubborn little kid I was, I refused. So, they stabbed me, took the money anyway, and ran off, never to be seen again." The Drama looked down grimly, and, just for a moment, the grim look was genuine. He felt a pain in his stomach, but after blinking tightly he felt fine again, and the grim look became just an act. 

"Lucky for me, one of my more trusted friends came to check on us, and found me alone and passed out. I don't remember the month after the stabbing, apparently I spent most of it slipping in and out of consciousness. I had a terrible fever, my friends said it was a miracle that I survived." The Drama sighed, and left out the part at the end where the first thing he remembers after that month of sickness was being as happy as he had ever been, and didn't feel worse for wear at all.
Phyllis
Nodding with a light shrug as he had expected the story to be a lie. He knew how much of his story had been real, and how much had been a lie. Of course he had used a fair bit of truth in his own story to ensure that he could keep the story straight, but John's had a bit of a fairytale quality that had made him question if much of any of it had been the truth. But at the time it hadn't mattered given they both had been making up stories of their lives.

Amos wondered, briefly, why John would turn around on this story and 'tell the truth' about it, assuming that he was though the more he heard the less he felt it was some tall tale. Real retellings had less details in them, less embellishments, and this one seemed to come out quickly; Like something to be done and over with. So he listened without interrupting, pausing at the brief slip of the name but unable to determine if he was naming his supposed friend, or someone else.

As John reached the conclusion for his story, Amos nods and considers everything before speaking, "It sounds like you trusted them quite a bit. At least enough to trust them to come by and become familiar with you and your friends." And he imagined the shock of being betrayed had to be terrible, not to mention the time in and out of consciousness trying to heal and perhaps even dealing with an infection. The first few times he had been worked on, he could remember becoming feverish. The dreams that had followed him those first months had made it difficult to understand what was real, and what was fantasy. He'd hated it and couldn't imagine going through it as a child. The brief, genuinely grim expression reinforced that thought.

If he could keep John from experiencing it again he would. He thought, briefly, that if he could he would do what was necessary to keep his friend safe. He smiled at his own stupid sentimentality, and chalked it up to age. But, John had told the truth and now he felt obligated to return the gesture. Exhaling he smiles, "Well so long as we're being honest, I lied myself when it came to how I came to look this way. Well, some parts I lied about at least."

"I was the middle child between two of my siblings, and we were often trying to one up each other, but really we escalated our antagonism quickly. I suppose when you can expect to have a few hundred years to live, the idea of enduring someone you hate isn't really ideal," Amos says with a shrug. At the time it hadn't seemed like too big of a deal. "I think I started lying about how my brother got his revenge. We never had a party, there was a mock fight and I was injured."

"So, my siblings offered to help."
Benjamin
The Drama was just about to get up and excuse himself when Amos confessed to lying. He chuckled, both at the fact that he didn't expect this whatsoever and the fact that he already knew Amos lied. The Drama decided to listen to Amos's retelling, and let himself settle back into his seat some. He chuckled at the new resolution.

"What they did doesn't seem like much help, though. I take it that was another of the cruel tortures you put each other through." The Drama narrowed his eyes some and looked Amos up and down. He didn't see it before and he didn't see it now; he could not believe that Amos was capable of cruelty. At least, he wasn't at this point in time. The Drama hadn't known Amos in the past, so perhaps Amos lied to not only Adrian, but himself when he told him that he was the same. 

The Drama leaned back and covered his mouth to yawn, then looked at his wine glass to see that he had one sip left. He lifted the glass to his lips and tipped it up all the way, finishing off the glass with an accomplished sigh. He knew he overdid himself in the attempt to act drunk, he never drank more than one glass every few days. He would probably awake with a bit of a headache... No matter. He was getting tired, and would have to rest. First, however, he had to tend to his guest.

"One moment, please." He said as he rose from his chair and walked into the next room that he had not yet shown Amos, which was his bedroom. After some time, he came out with a cot folded up under his arm.

"Here. As you would probably expect, it doesn't get much use, but I figured it would be rude of me to expect you to sleep on the floor." He chuckled and offered the cot to Amos.
Phyllis
He smirked, debating just how far he ought to continue though he laughed at the 'cruel tortures' they put one another through. Really, John had no idea how far exactly they went with their antics. After some point or another it had quite definitely escalated to life threatening behaviors, but it had never seemed that bad then. It had all seemed quite natural, normal even, and perhaps to them it *Was* Normal. Still after debating, he shrugged and went about as far as he thought he could without distressing himself or exposing how badly it had all affected him; "They didn't really do anything to me that time. All they did was sell me."

And that was it, like it was not as big of an event as it obviously was, or didn't have far reaching consequences like it had. And like he had not decided to leave everything on a cliffhanger as they had tended to do when they lied to one another. He finished his glass and set it down. Kept his mind far from dwelling on the past and instead focused on what John had said of his own. 

The exchange of information had left him feeling oddly vulnerable though he had offhandedly told a few others before, so he was not sure why it felt different now. Perhaps it was simply because they'd both made an active decision to tell the truth instead of lie. Leaving the thought and feeling aside he nodded when John excused himself and stayed where he was, before accepting the cot when John returned.

He chuckled and shrugged, "This will be fine and better than how I usually sleep, thank you."
Benjamin
Despite his misgivings, despite the well of emotion he felt rising up at the casual mention of Amos being sold, the Drama decided to stay in character and stay calm, continuing with his actions. Still, though, it upset him immensely. How could someone speak so casually of such a cruel act—of one having total control over another. "*Sold* You? How can you say that so lightheartedly?!" He wished to say, "We are not puppets, Amos, we have no strings!"

However, he didn't say it. He didn't wish to get heated at this hour, nor did he wish to trouble Amos with a political discussion. It was late, and he figured that Amos was just as tired, if not more so than himself. So, he spared Amos's ears from the wrath of his strong opinions on people, and dropped the discussion before it could start.

"I figured as much. It is my pleasure to please you so." He chuckled and bowed slightly, as if he was ending a performance. Then, he would enter his bedroom, bidding Amos a good night before he closed his door to change out of his suit and into a night gown. After a long day of hunting, feeding, and grieving, the Drama finally decided that he should rest. As he drifted off to sleep, he made a not to visit his cleaner the next day, as his suit needed some stains removed.