[The silliness seems to have helped with whatever had been caught in the air before. And that quirk grows to a real smile by the time he's caught her hand in the courtly manner and drawn her in.]
[She presses against him, and she doesn't need the help from the mistletoe to kiss him, but it is there above their heads, suggestive as she presses her lips to his, her hands to his hips]
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Not worried. My aim's good.
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