Gaheris was nose to nose with Dylan, nigh on about to gouge holes where he was holding. He suddenly grinned tightly, a little more flustered by this than he wanted to be. This was a silly interpretation of a cultural ritual, correct? Nothing that should coax this sort of reaction out of him.

"How many more times do we have to do this?" He tries to slip his arms into a more comfortable position around his neck. "Am I allowed to do that?"