Starlight shimmers in his hair, turning it to liquid silver in the dusk of the autumnal night.

He lifts her chin with one sharp gauntleted finger, gazing into her eyes with the heat of a whole lifetime of desire condensed to one moment, standing here together under the waxing moon.

She knows he's going to kiss her, shivers as he dips his mouth to hers and…

Maker, but he has the sloppiest tongue, and breath like the Bone Pit on a hot day.

She sits up with a shriek, tangled in bedsheets.

"Rory, get off!" she says, pushing at the Mabari.