"Pastry," Emrys repeated dryly, unamused. Pastry wasn't exactly sexy, in his opinion. Nevermind that Christobal's demeanor was still unbearably awkward. Even if he'd wanted to forge ahead on this little venture, he wasn't sure how he could manage a smooth transition from a comment like that. Pastry.

No, best to give up. If he stopped here, he could salvage his dignity — he'd done a fair job so far of pretending that this conversation was entirely normal for someone who enjoyed luxury, and since he hadn't overtly come on to the other man he could go on pretending that and it was unlikely the artist would ever bring it up to anyone else. He would have to ask him to leave if he was going to be this inconvenient, but that could wait a few days. Christobal didn't need to know that he was being asked to vacate specifically because he was preventing Emrys from getting laid, and waiting a while between the failed seduction attempt and his request to have his spare bedroom back would help obfuscate the real reasoning behind the request.

"Anyway," he said dismissively, hoping Christobal would get the hint and leave. For his part, Emrys sunk his head down to almost below the bubbles in the water so that he wouldn't notice when the artist did depart.