[Okay, Roxanne just took the victim/kidnap relationship to a whole new level.

He just -- freezes. He doesn't even know where to begin with this, because it is just so surreal that it cannot even feasibly be happening.

Roxanne hates him. She's -- always been adamant about her disdain. It's not as if she had ever displayed anything other than that disdain, as a matter of fact -- unless one included mockery in that, and if that was to be ecounted, then -- well. Fine.

Mockery and disdain.

Not affection. Never affection.

And certainly not kisses. Kisses that, as far as he was concerned, rightly belonged to someone else.

When he regains his wits (and, okay -- after returning it briefly, because damn -- lifelong dream, anyone?) He takes her firmly by the shoulders, and gently presses her back and away.]

Miss Ritchi. I believe you've hit your head. Are you all right? How many fingers am I holding up?

[Two. And, for the record? He's a good kisser, thank you Ryn.]