There’s a pause, in which the oft-credulous Benedict struggles to believe him, but he simply knows Bastien too well by now. His face reddens with indignation, his expression darkening. He doesn’t deserve this, he thinks.

“You’re an arsehole,” he says in an undertone, his voice quavering, and he gets up from the table just as quickly as he sat down.

Before he’s completely stepped away, however, Benedict turns with a toss of his hair to snip, “and Rattie loves me more than you.”