How to explain this? He isn't sure. He's deeply suspicious but not sure.
Francis just sparkled.
His eyes lit up and a twinkle appeared, sparkling like the champagne that Arthur was drinking – slightly sweet, possibly addictive, and misleading.
It wasn't just the sparkle, but the smile, the smile that said I will have control of you, I will and the hungry look behind the sparkling. It made him so uncomfortable, but damn his curiosity. He leans closer to see that sparkle again, not noticing the grin on the Frenchman's smug, stupid face as he did so, minutes before lips crashed against his. A not-very-manly squeak escaping him before he shoved the other away, gasping for breath and whipping a small pistol from his pocket, pointing it at the other with a terrified expression in place of his usual masking frown.
"So the mask of the gentleman finally disappears…" Francis said calmly, a smirk still on his lips where his expression said he could still taste Arthur. The Brit shook, his aim slightly off centre. Francis stood, that sparkle back as he reached for the gun, slowly removing it from Arthur's grip, before the Englishman ran, ran from the room. He heard his name called, refusing to turn as a tear streaked down from his left eye, a stinging sensation warning him that his right eye would soon do the same.
He really will go for anyone.