Ask her what sort of food she likes

"So," you say, as your starters arrive. "What type of food do you like, Gabrielle?"

"I'm happy with Italian, it's always nice," she replies, eyes focused on her food. She probably mentioned Italian because you've chosen a fine Italian restaurant for tonight.

"I mean, I'm not sure there's a human on the planet that doesn't like Italian," you chuckle, eliciting a laugh from Gabrielle. "So come on. Spill. What's your special-treat place?"

The French girl sets down her cutlery, looking into the air as she genuinely ponders the question. It crosses your mind that her face is magazine-worthy even at moments like this, and you absorb the thrill of realising that you might actually be getting somewhere with Gabrielle Skye.

"Mexican," she says finally.

"Mexican?" you ask, raising your eyebrows. You can't even imagine a sophisticated aristocrat like Gabrielle eating a taco.

"Yeah," the blonde grins mischievously. "It's... exciting to eat. Fun. Dripping sauce everywhere, running to get water when it's too spicy, getting your hands all sticky and messy... I love it. How about you, Felix? What do you like?"

You reply with your own favourite cuisine, but you really don't care to talk about yourself at the moment. You're fascinated by Gabrielle - it feels like every time she speaks you see another facet of her seemingly polished diamond of a personality.

The main course comes, and when you ask her what her favourite drink is, she hesitates and replies that it’s gin. You persist, and she soon admits that she drinks rum like a pirate. The atmosphere is relaxed and friendly - it feels like a success of a first date, breaking the ice and getting somewhat comfortable around one another.

Your plates emptied, you offer Gabrielle your arm, and she takes it, allowing you to escort her back outside.