"It's," and Gustave paused to make a drawn out sound, gesturing with his hands. "I think it depends on the type of party." Chuckling, he dragged a hand through his hair. "A final voyage, I think usually, you don't really serve yourself at those." They never used to, but they hadn't had the people to spare anymore, not when there were so few of them left. There were even fewer of them now, and Gustave felt that cold realization wrap around his heart and squeeze, pushing all the air out of his chest.

"I can't complain too much. The food was better." Gustave was amused in spite of his reservations, his gaze softening as he focused on the young man, too easily falling into that guardian-like role he took on back in Lumière.