I swallow the food. “Depends what you’ve got in your mouth,” I say cheerfully, watching happily as he checks slightly before giving me a glare and starting to eat his own food stoically and with little obvious pleasure. I wait a second and then sigh and cut my burger in half and slide it onto his plate.

“Oh no, I can’t take that,” he immediately and predictably protests.

I wave my knife at him. “I can’t tolerate watching you force that down. It’s like I’ve taken you to Rosies for the twink parade and you’ve settled for cleaning the tables.”

“There’s a twink parade at Rosies?” he says faintly. “Do they wear costumes?” I open my mouth but he shakes his head forcibly. “No, don’t bother explaining. I think it’s probably better that way.”

Despite his protestations, he eats heartily and with every sign of enjoyment, and I watch him contentedly. He had hardly anything to eat tonight, even with those meagre portions, and I know it was because he was tense in that social situation. It’s one of the reasons why I was so mad at the old cow. Zeb needs to eat properly. He quite often looks tired and worn.

I shake my head at my thoughts and fall on my own food like a starving dog. Finally, when my hunger is appeased, I sit back and watch him eating the salad.

“I always wondered who ate that,” I observe, and he shakes his head.

“I suppose it’s useless to ask if you eat five a day.”

“Not at all,” I say primly. “I had a Fab lolly earlier on. That’s got strawberry and milk in it, so I’ve had my fruit and dairy.”

He shakes his head. “I’m amazed you can manage to walk and talk at the same time. Not that you make any sense while you do it.”

“Zeb,” I chide. “Give in to my charm. I know you feel it. The force is strong in me.”

“And so is the bullshit,” he observes, a small smile tugging at his lips as I roar with laughter.

When I sober up, I stare at him. “So, Max?” I say. “An old friend?” He looks at me with one supercilious eyebrow raised and a small smile on his lips. “Have you fucked him?”

He blinks. “I often wonder if you’ll ever lose the ability to ask inappropriate questions.” He shrugs. “Today is not that day.”

I look hard at him and he shakes his head. “No, of course I haven’t.”

“Why do you say of course not? He’s gorgeous.”

A shadow crosses his face almost too quickly for me to notice, but I do. “You think he’s good-looking?” he says in a voice wiped clean of expression.

“Good-looking and like a very loose cannon,” I observe and he laughs, the shadow falling away.