nonplussed

Then he laughs all of a sudden and asks if I have ever been to Hungary.

When I inform him that I am half-Hungarian, he insists I give him a list of places to eat in Budapest.

I recommend a restaurant, the attractions of which include the best gipsy violinist in Europe, who happens to be a friend of mine.

Grant looks at me slyly: "Have you slept with him?"

"What!? How dare you!" I squeak. "But have you?" he persists.

"This interview is at an end," I declare, and get up to leave. Then I remember it should be the other way around.