Escort? Blaise slanted an eyebrow, an unreadable mixture of humour and affront crossing his face. He flicked the ashes off the end off his cigarette. "Do I look like an escort to you?"
Maybe that wasn't the right question to ask. Or maybe it was. Either way, it was amusing to let Kirley think that it might be true.
"My name's Blaise Zabini," he answered, not expecting it to ring any bells. Even in the past, his family kept a low profile.