"You think?" he asks, smiling crookedly, and steps forward to first take Vandelin's hand, then draw him close for a soft kiss. A thrill runs the length of him at their closeness here in this place; this isn't an inn room, they could stay here together all night, and all of tomorrow, if they wanted to, because it's his, and he can do with it what he wants. He chuckles some, breaking the kiss to warn Vandelin, "Don't get too many ideas about dressing it up nice--we're halfway to Darktown, it'll just get pinched while I'm out."

There's a narrow, rickety staircase in one corner of the sparse room leading to a small upstairs chamber that doubles as both storage attic and bedroom. Leading Vandelin there, Kit fumbles in the darkness for a book of matches and a candlestick, which he lights. When illuminated, the room possesses a musty kind of coziness; the bed is clean, if uncomfortable looking, and what few personal possessions Kit has that he feels comfortable leaving out are sitting on top of a rudimentary dresser on the far wall. He doesn't have much. He's never needed much.

"You, um, want anything to drink?" he thinks to offer. "I've got a crap kettle downstairs, could make you some tea. Got a little left-over liquor, if you need something stronger." Another hesitant smile; he's doing an admirable job of keeping it under control, but it's impossible to miss how nervous he is, how worried he is about doing something wrong.