'I know,' Astrofel said, nonchalant. 'Tell me something I don't.'

'You're an obnoxious idiot? You don't seem to have realised that yet.'

'Learn to respect eachother,' Melkior snapped, slapping the desk. Octavia shot Astrofel a toxic look. 'You are acting like little children. Now, Octavia, where are you from?'

'I was born in York, but I moved to London when I was small.'

'I knew it,' interjected Astrofel triumphantly, sitting up. 'You have a lower-class Londoner accent. Let me guess... East End? South?'

'And yours? Let me guess... Hell?'

'Octavia! Stop retaliating. Astrofel, stop provoking her. It's not too late to send you both home,' Melkior threatened. Astrofel grinned, and winked at Octavia. She was seething.

After an angry silence, Melkior continued, 'Where do you live? With whom?'

'I live alone in a rented room,' Octavia glanced at Astrofel, and flushed. 'In the East End.'

Smirking at her, he mouthed as she seated herself, 'How d'you afford it?'

'Astrofel,' Melkior challenged, now in a thoroughly bad mood, 'your turn.'

'Gladly,' he stood, a smug expression dominating his features. 'I'm Astrofel--obviously--and I live in Beaconsfield. That's in Buckinghamshire. My father's a Lord, but we only own three acres of land. We sold most of it a few years ago, you see. Father, Mother and I live in a large house--some people call it a mansion, but it's really quite modest.'

'Oh, that explains it. You're a spoilt brat!' Octavia was instantly ashamed. She shouldn't have sunk to his level. What would Melkior think of her now?

'Sit down, Astrofel, and don't even think about talking back. I am disappointed with both of you.