She rises to her knees, the sides of the jacket parting over her breasts, and grins, plopping a grape into her mouth.

"My men," she murmurs, leaning in to kiss each of them in turn. "One so polished and elegant," as she kisses Moist, slow and lingering, "and one so wild and deadly," as she moves to Urquhart to kiss him next, hungry and claiming.