“Were you trying to rescue me?” Delo asks. I’m grinning a bit, myself. “I mean, you’re my damsel.” Still holding the brick, Delo leans forward. For a half second, I wonder if he’s going to hit me in the head with it, too. I am pinned under the dead weight of the unconscious Bassilean prince. “I’m not the one with goliathan slobber on my face,” Delo says. He’s smirking. I wipe my face in horror. And then, before I know what’s happened, Delo leans forward and kisses me, slobber and all.
