"Mister Boosh, may I 'ave a word?" His back to the Frenchman for the moment, first lieutenant William Bush of the Hotspur closed his eyes briefly. What now?
Plastering a polite smile on his face, he turned to face Major André Côtard. "Yes, Major? How can I help you?"
"I wish to zank you for your assistance in ze recent action," Côtard replied, his expression uncharacteristically serious as he fingered the bandage that Matthews, the bo'sun, had wrapped around his upper arm. "Not many Englishman would 'ave done zat."
Bush tilted his head slightly. "You are a comrade in arms, Major, regardless of your country of birth. It was my duty to help."
"I zank you all ze same." Côtard offered a smile and extended his uninjured arm to Bush.
Nodding, he reached out to take the offered hand, stumbling when he was suddenly yanked forward and the Frenchman's mouth pressed against his. Before he could react one way or another, the kiss ended and Côtard disappeared from their berth. Left alone, Bush lightly touched his lips. Why did he wish the kiss had lasted longer?