The second time Revelin and Bacchus kiss is less than a fortnight after the first. Revelin is grateful, relieved even, when Bacchus intervenes with a particularly aggressive working woman. Revelin, polite and gentlemanly in all things, would have been trying to dissuade her from her interest in him, but mentions of a lost wife and a lost son, of professional duties in need of attendance, of a lack of reciprocal interest had fallen on deaf ears. Revelin would never strike a woman, so he’s easily boxed against a wall in an abandoned alley of the small town in which the caravan has stopped for the night. He uses his physician’s bag as a barrier between her body and his as she attempts to kiss him, touch him, scrabbling at his waistcoat. He tries to back up still despite the wall at his back. When Bacchus intervenes, a shove and a gruff order to leave, Revelin sags with relief. He drops his medical bag beside him. Bacchus uses his larger frame as if to shield Revelin from what just transpired, and while Revelin is similarly still backed against the wall, he doesn’t feel threatened. Bacchus watches Revelin’s face for a moment, as if searching for something, before waiting a beat and kissing him sweetly. A kiss is what the woman had been after, but Revelin is happy to oblige Bacchus. He’s had a fortnight to consider what had transpired between them, to consider how or what would change between them—Revelin’s only fear is found in how he doesn’t want to disappoint Bacchus. “Are you all right?” Bacchus asks, and Revelin can almost feel the question against his lips as surely as he hears it. Revelin gives a soft affirmative hum. “Thank you,” Revelin says. “You have impeccable timing.” But Bacchus doesn’t pull away. Bacchus doesn’t make to leave. Instead, Bacchus stays as close as Revelin allows. He leans in as if to kiss Revelin again, but stops just short. “Is this all right?” he asks. Revelin considers the question. Is this all right? Whatever this is. Revelin doesn’t have a name for it and hasn’t developed one since the first kiss in the pub. He doesn’t know Bacchus’ intentions towards him, but there’s an absence of worry or apprehension in Revelin despite such uncertainty. Instead of worrying the matter further, Revelin smiles and takes Bacchus by the face, bringing him within reach of his lips. “Yes,” he says, before kissing Bacchus again.