Susan, swayed, crosses back over to Lancelot, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in for a proper few kisses, long and sweet. "My love," she murmurs, between them. "You're ever so distracting."

(This is, of course, not a complaint. Being distracted from her self-appointed tasks by Lancelot before Dark did not, in fact, bring about any sort of ruin, and now she's more inclined than ever to let herself get swept up and away.)