Mid-sentence and another hearty chuckle managed to escape Gaultier before Cygnus' hand clutched his arm tightly. And though Gaultier briefly attempted to tug himself free, there was something he missed about Cygnus' fingers. With a wave of his hand he excused himself from the group, turning after a moment to stride along at the same general pace and unknowingly leaning into Cygnus' touch.
The corner in which Gaultier found himself being tugged toward was free of passing guests, secluded -- Cygnus enjoyed similar corners in their childhood when one or the other would insist a quickie is all that they'd need, and Gaultier wasn't surprised he was seeking solace in one now.
"What is it?"
Gaultier whispered much more harshly than necessary, turning out of Cygnus' grasp in one sweeping motion before letting himself rest against the nearest wall. The look on Cygnus' face clearly indicated there was something still brewing in the pit of his stomach -- but who was he to still be angry? "I thought you couldn't be bothered with a Lestrange.."
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