From beneath his lashes, he watched her return to the table and sit down, as if nothing had happened, arranging a napkin across her lap, picking up her glass of wine and taking a sip. All eyes had switched from him to her.

“Oh, Herbert,” she said suddenly, turning and looking at him.

With a beckoning gesture, she drew him closer. He looked baffled, as if expecting to hear some warning or other then uttered an indignant squawk when she caught his face between her hands and kissed him squarely on the mouth.


(and this is where he babbles something and grabs Spike and runs from the room to reassert his masculinity. Or something...)