When Macnair had pressed his face into Ford's hair it had hampered Ford's ability to see his expression, but now he was glad of it. It meant he didn't have to worry that Macnair would notice the involuntary tightening of his jaw or the look that crossed his eyes. Ford had been pushing aside a lot of unprocessed guilt about Macnair having a wedding tomorrow, but his thoughts had always centered on the emotional aspect of it. If they were discovered she would surely be hurt, but if she knew Macnair didn't love her perhaps she wouldn't be devastated. This other aspect of it was one he hadn't forced himself to consider before now, though of course if he'd stepped back to think about it logically he would have known that Macnair marrying her meant he'd also need to sleep with her. But in polite society sex was just the sort of thing no one thought about or talked about, unless there was some sort of trouble about it. Ford didn't particularly want to talk about it now, and he certainly didn't want to picture any of the particulars.

Not that he'd even know where to start if he did want to picture anything. Ford had never even kissed a girl, so he had no first hand experience on which to draw from. He had a vague notion of women's anatomy from having grown up with sisters, but knew none of the particulars (and hadn't had any exposure since his days in the shared nursery, so if there were any differences between adult women and children he was entirely in the dark on that point). So it was hardly as though he was in a position to give advice, even if he'd wanted to.

Ford nestled in a little tighter against Macnair, though he wasn't sure if he'd done it to be comforting or to further protect his own expression from observation. "But you've done it before?" he asked, though he didn't really want to know. "With a —?"

---