Sebastian's lips pursed and his nose scrunched up with a look that loudly and clearly said 'I'm judging you, and you're boring me'. He wet his lips casually. "What, do you think I'm a fucking Monk? Of course I have. There's a hell of a lot more gay dudes here than you realise. We just don't need a homophobic fanfare about the fact, like McKinley who - gasp - deign to have guys that like cock walk their halls. And they wonder why they're a goddamn laughing stock. If their show choir teacher isn't closeted with that hair, then I'm friggen Oprah," he drawled.

He gave a small, smug flick of his head and casually checked his watch. "You're not the only one, princess. Luckily, I'm not Angelina Jolie. I'm not monogamous, I'm not about to hook up and adopt twenty babies from Ethiopia in the name of domestic bliss. But this ass," he said, running a hand slowly over the curve of his ass, "comes at a price. Matheson's not about to stumble out of the closet to join you anytime soon so long as he has Crawford booty spreading their legs for him, so it looks like it's just you and me, even if you do look like a Hanson brother. I'll set that little detail aside. It all looks the same in the dark."