Look. Cong. Benny Abante does not walk out like that. Everyone knows it. When he’s mad, he’s fiery. Planted. Impassioned. A preacher. Or a DJ. Bedroom voice. DJ Benny. Rodrigo Duterte, remember?

So, when this man, of all people, stands up calmly, smiles, shakes hands, and announces, “I would like to walk out now,” from a hearing about impeaching the President he’d normally be expected to defend, something is off. Very off.

We’re not saying this is what happened. But if you’ve ever been trapped in a long hearing, no end in sight, opening remarks still opening, one man thanking another man for thanking a third man, then another one says, “Just to add,” and adds absolutely nothing (Benny: “Please don’t add anything. Subtract. Subtract now!”), that’s how “uh-oh” sneaks up on you.

Abante adjusted in the chair. That’s your first tell. Veteran move. Nodded once to be polite. Nodded twice to buy time. The third nod is a lie; he stopped hearing words and started hearing distance: door, hallway, exit. Why is it so far?

Nobody questions it. The system is so bloated that urgency looks like dissent. “[Due to circumstances that are not political but extremely persuasive,] I must walk out right now.”

Boom. Urgency with manners.

Long hearings are basically a dare to human endurance. The smile is polite but the steps are careful — the walk of a man negotiating with time.

Let’s not pretend the exit was a statement against the process. The process had already made its statement by lasting long enough to provoke a small, dignified revolt of the human spirit.

Even the Chair, Bitrix Luistro, especially Bitrix, had her moment. Big one. She spoke the way cows deliver bad news to plants. By the third pause, Abante may have started rooting for verbs: “OK, wrap it up, let’s go!”

“The. Sovereign. Filipino. People,” she opened her speech, spacing it out like the pauses were applause.

Beautiful invocation. Everybody uses it. Politicians love it. Except no actual sovereign Filipino talks like that. Ever. The people, by the way, talk fast. They interrupt. They finish your sentence for you.

Also, tiny detail nobody mentions: the “sovereign people” are not allowed to interrupt. Bitrix: Sovereign, yes, OK. Acknowledged. Moving on. Back to me.

Abante may have stopped listening and started distracting himself with Bitrix’s eyeliner. You can tell with the eyeliner that she thought her speech would trend.

And suddenly the Chair was asking Cong. Chel Diokno: “What distinguishes a dean from a lawyer?”

Abante: Speed. Speed distinguishes them!

Diokno drops the “I have practiced for 36 years.” Very polite. Very Filipino. Very Abante thinking: “Please exclude me from this mess.” That’s when he might have known this could’ve been an email.

A joke finally lands and everyone laughs, meanwhile Abante may have been like, “Laugh fast. Laugh. Laugh. Laugh while walking.”

So when the gavel hits, you stand. Very calm, very polite, like nothing’s wrong, because rushing invites questions, and questions invite witnesses.

“I must walk out right now.”

That’s the House on a long day. Endless day. A “hearing,” which means everyone talks because no one’s listening.

The people didn’t ask for everybody’s speech. They asked for a decision. The hardest vote in this chamber is deciding when to stop talking.