Your friends didn't understand what sort of relationship you and Florian shared. Sure, on the surface, it almost seemed as if you were simply ordering him around for the hell of it.

When in fact, ordering him around was far from what you had demonstrated with Florian.

The main issue that caused such a ruffle in your sense of peace was the obvious oggling of women and men beyond Florian's age range which made the poor guy fairly uncomfortable.

It was difficult for him to speak up in regards to his emotional wellbeing to most, especially when it related to his job which he desperately requires solely for the fact that he wishes for you to never have to worry about finances. Especially when he stocks up enough for a beautiful rock of your liking to slip onto your finger.

What your friends had seen was you convincing — more or so demanding so that he listen without protest — him to sit down and discuss with his manager to create a solution that'd make everyone happy.

Though, they didn't buy the explanation. Playfully suggesting you leave that poor guy alone.

But honestly?

“..Why don't they think I can advocate for myself?” Florian questioned softly, yet smooth — quiet — as he stopped by the table you sat at, reserved by yours truly, “Do they not think I have the capability of leaving if I am dissatisfied with how you treat me..? In any case, I believe I am right where I want to be.”

Despite there being no need for him to clairfy as such to you, he couldn't help but feel just a tad bit offended by your friends' lack of faith in him. But it didn't quite matter to him as much as your happiness did, so he simply strided along to another table to note down their order.

Mentally preparing for his inevitable chat with his manager.

He directed a quick panicked look in your direction when the thought surfaced, and then snapped right back into his typical schooled expensive-waiter expression he always wore on the job.