I picked at my food, unsure why Gaston looked so aloof; I was growing more and more upset with every passing minute.

After a while, I found the courage to speak, and my voice came out in a forlorn whisper,

'I ...I would like...I mean... Can I...I need to get home...'

His dark eyebrows shot up as he surveyed me dispassionately, his cold grey-blue eyes paler than ever.

After a long pause, he spoke, his voice empty of any emotion.

"Home?' he quizzed and raised a glass to his lips, taking his time, running his eyes over my flushed, miserable face.

'' You mean the place you share with those...