Kissing does not serve much of a point in what she tends to use her body for. A kiss can be a decent enough promise, no doubt about that, but her idea is efficiency, sex as a weapon, and kissing reminds her of romance, of a genuine bond. There has, for instance, of yet been neither a reason to sleep with Robert Baratheon, but he has kissed her during their engagement dinner, and she had found the whole thing revolting. There have been hundreds of kisses she'd liked – but that was with someone else, someone who meant the world.

And now here she is, kissing Faramir, and it felt, for lack of a moment's self control, magical. They were testing the waters, so to speak, and he was forward enough to have her feel wanted, without barrelling down on her. And she could let her fingers sink further into his hair, taste wine and taste him, and sigh, softly, against his lips when they come apart again. For a moment after, she is almost comically out of words, blinking at him as though her brain was on the verge of rebooting. "I think I know what I want to do for the rest of the night."