Noble made a pleased sound involuntarily as Daffy's hands slid into his hair; he tightened his grip on her hips and returned the kiss, deeply. He was a little more passionate than he usually was, a little less measured and steady and thinking about the ways they could get caught — because they wouldn't get caught and because this week had been hard, and because it was so rare that he had her here, in his workshop.

He was lying to her. He was lying to her and maybe she would find out, or maybe she would guess. He was lying to her and he was lying to Ford and everything was so close to falling apart, and Noble quieted that thought by running one hand up her back.

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