"Yes, they bake them fresh every morning. My mother and I like to arrive early if we're to come at all, so we can acquire our favorite treats," he explained pleasantly as he took a bite from the corner of the sweet pastry he'd ordered. Lucio was perfectly content to sit there quietly with his lover then, sipping at his chocolate beverage and nibbling at his fruit pastry. But, Ansel looked as though he wanted to say something more and Lucio listened attentively as he spoke. He wasn't exactly pleased that the man brought up the money situation, but the boy wouldn't have argued had he quit whilst he was ahead. His companion, however, seemed to have grown a bit more courageous in the time he'd spent with him, he wasn't mincing his words in the slightest. This next handful of comments he made prodded the student's ire, and any traces of a smile, polite or otherwise, that had remained upon his features promptly fell away.<br/><br/>He didn't have time to conjure up any sort of response to the words that he had taken as nothing less than an insult. Ansel jumped straight into some mutterings about a trip; a trip that he, of course, would be paying for. Lucio found the flame of agitation that was already flickering within the pit of his stomach to be stoked slightly at the man's simple assumption that there wouldn't be any sort of retaliation. He was distracted momentarily from his line of thought when Ansel questioned him about the best airport to make reservations at.<br/><br/>"Heathrow is fine, Ansel, but . . . Did you mean to say that you're the only one here with a<i>real </i>job? Because, I'd find that to be quite a misstep on your part: insinuating that what I do with professors behind closed doors is merely for fun." There it was, the bear had been prodded. It was fair enough to Lucio considered his prostitution to be work, in a way it was his profession, and they'd had discussions about that much in the past. Despite the fact that the pay wasn't conventional, Lucio saw it as work, and what Ansel had just done was insult his profession. No, that wouldn't do at all. "Did you think the first time we fucked was just a pleasant past time? Did you think that getting beaten to a pulp by Buckley was a source of enjoyment? Is that what you think me? That getting railed by ugly old men is a merely my hobby?" All of this was said in a hushed tone, so neither of the other souls present in the establishment could eavesdrop . It was clear enough, however, that Ansel had clipped a nerve.<br/><br/>"If that's so why not just call me what you see me as? A filthy whore who can do nothing more than leech off of daddies paycheck," he whispered, his lips drawn into a deep, displeased frown as he sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. Was it childish of him to respond in this way? Certainly. Did he care? Not particularly. Ansel had broached a sensitive subject for the boy, albeit unintentionally, and Lucio was a bitter beast when his insecurities were jumped upon.