"Connor," Norris exclaimed, with his usual enthusiasm, and immediately from the expression on his face, Connor knew there was something wrong.

"What is it Norris? What has happened?" The Loyalists were back, or poachers. Or something had happened to Myriam.

"It is terrible, Connor!" Norris began, gripping Connor by the shoulders as if he would run away. "I don't know what to do! Myriam! She- She likes the knife!"

Connor, half way to sliding a hand reassuringly around one of Norris' wrists, froze, blinking.

"She..." he began carefully. White men's ways were still so foreign to him sometimes. He did not want to say something that would offend. "Likes your gift? But... I thought that was what you wanted, Norris."

"It is!" Norris cried, releasing him to take a restless, frantic step away. "It is! But now I do not know what to do!"

Connor blinked at him again. Surely it was obvious?

"But do you not just go to her bed with a light?" he asked, a little confused as to why it should be so difficult. "If she blows it out she has accepted you. Or sometimes there are more gifts, if she does not. The men of my people say a side of young aque or a bag of good grain is looked upon with much favour. If she wants to wed you, she will take these things from where you leave them outside her home."

Norris, while Connor had been speaking, had stopped pacing and was now staring at him instead.

"I... uh," he said. "I just do not know how to kiss her, you know?"

Connor stared at him blankly.

"Kiss?" he repeated.

Norris seemed at a complete loss. "Yes, you know? Kiss her. I mean, should I just do it when she is close, or should I wait until there is a romantic moment? Or maybe I should ask her first? I do not want her to use her new knife on me."

"No, that would be..." Connor began, but he felt as if he was losing the point of the conversation, and shook his head briefly as if he could shake the sticking thoughts loose. "Wait. I do not understand. This act you are speaking of, it is something unpleasant?"

Norris blinked at him. "No. At least, I hope not?"

Connor shrugged. "Then why should she not like it?"

Norris blinked again. "Perhaps I should not have asked you about this, Connor," he said, wincing a little as if he were in pain of a sudden. "I am sorry. I will go and talk to Doctor White. Or perhaps Oliver. I did not mean to trouble you."

Connor made an aggravated face and shifted his shoulders in decision.

"It is no trouble," he told him. "If you are worried Myriam will not like this 'kiss' you may give it to me and I will tell you if it is unpleasant or not."

Now Norris did not merely blink, he gaped.

"Err, no. That is all right! I am sure Oliver will know-"

"Oliver is gone to Boston to buy taps for his bar," Connor said dismissively. "And Doctor White is studying and will not be disturbed. No, you best give this thing to me now, and then you will know sooner rather than later if you may give it to Myriam."

"Are... Are you sure?"

"Of course!" Connor said. "What must I do?"

There was some colour in Norris' face and for a moment he seemed to find the boulder by which they had been standing of great interest.

"Oh," he said, and Connor worried if he was perhaps taking ill. It was a very warm day out, after all. "You just, well. You just stand there and I..."

He took a nervous step toward Connor, and then another, until he was very close. Connor watched him curiously, wondering what he would do. Then with a harsh gust of breath that came from the centre of his chest, Norris put his hands back on Connor's shoulders and without warning and pulled him towards him, and Connor was so busy trying not to turn his flinch into a kill move that he did not realise until Norris' mouth was pressed against his what this 'kiss' must be.

And by then it was too late to retract his offer, so Connor just waited, making his mouth into a softer shape so that Norris did not think he was being unpleasant. Connor had invested a great deal in helping Norris woo Myriam, and if asked, he would have said they made a very good match. So it would be foolish to ruin things now, and actually, it was not all that unpleasant at all. Norris' mouth was warm, velvety, and the hair upon his top lip and his chin tickled as he moved his mouth, turning his head and parting his lips and-

Connor breathed in sharply as something soft and warm and wet brushed delicately against the centre of his top lip. Norris'... tongue? The realisation sent an odd, prickling sensation darting through him, and he was still chasing that feeling and its unknown origin when Norris' mouth moved further, pressed a little harder, and his tongue slid against Connor's lips again, and then between them.

And then suddenly it seemed like Norris was trying to devour him by the mouth in the most pleasant way. Connor opened his mouth further, as it seemed to be what Norris was trying to get him to do, and the sinuous penetration of Norris' tongue deeper into the cavern of his mouth was both shocking and thrilling, like throwing himself off a height, like that moment right before a battle, as if this strange thing, this kiss, was only a precursor to something else, something much bigger.

Someone made a low sound, and right after, Connor realised it had been him, and that Norris was jerking back to stare at him, his face flushed and his mouth open, a little red. He was breathing hard, but then so was Connor.

"I-" Norris gulped, his eyes wide like a deer about to spring away. "I-"

"Ah," Connor said, coughing lightly past a strangely dry throat, not sure what the proper custom was supposed to be at this point. "That was... I believe – think – Myriam will like that very well indeed."

"Err," Norris said, and seemed to suddenly realise he was still gripping Connor about the shoulders. "Ah!" He dropped his hands and took a quick step back as if he had somehow been burned. "Yes! Well, I mean, do you think so?"

"Most certainly," Connor smiled reassuringly and reached down to adjust himself where Norris' 'kiss' had made him a little hard. Norris' gaze dropped to the gesture and then jerked back up to Connor's face. The colour in his cheeks seemed to suddenly get much brighter.

"Oh! Is that- Is that so? I am glad." He seemed both relieved and oddly reluctant to move, his gaze alighting again and again on Connor's face before darting quickly away. "You are... a good friend, Connor. A very good friend. If you should ever... want anything of me, I would consider it a great honour to give it to you."

Connor grinned, and reached over and slapped Norris lightly on the shoulder.

"Why, thank you, Norris!" he said happily. "I will be sure to let you know! Will you now go and give the kiss to Myriam?"

Norris's face did something complicated for a moment that Connor did not recognise.

"Err, not just yet, I think," he said carefully. "I will wait a little while."

"Oh, then be sure to tell me how it goes," Connor reminded him. "I ride for New York tonight, but I think you and Myriam are a very good match. I am very happy for your courtship, and if this kiss is as well received by her as it has been with me, I perhaps should bring a wedding gift on my return, yes?"

"Ah, yes, perhaps," Norris told him, smiling now too. Connor thought it a very handsome smile and was happy all over again that a woman as strong and capable as Myriam returned his interest. "I look forward to seeing you again then. Be safe on your journey."

"I will," Connor said, and turned back to his horse, vaulting himself up into the saddle in a practised move. "And perhaps I will try this kiss upon someone if I get the time! Fare well!"

Connor pulled the horse's head around, gave it a kick, and raised a hand to wave at Norris as the mount broke into a canter. The last he saw of the man was Norris standing open mouthed, waving his arms frantically. Connor waved again. These white men. Such strange customs they had. Some of them were quite enjoyable; some of them Connor still did not understand at all.