"You're breaking up with me?" He sounded so astonished and hurt that she had to turn around, to see if the expression on his face matched that in his voice.
It did.
She sighed. Silly boy.
"Yes of course I am." She snapped the purple lace fan shut, and tapped in against one gloved palm. "You never take me out any more, and when we do go out, you exhibit the most proletariat tastes."
His retort was drowned by the gunfire from the other end of town, and then silenced by his neighbours' warning screams.
"Roderick! It's Roderick's men, run!"