"You do have an odd sort of luck, I suppose." Good? Bad? Some secret third option?

Zevran let him crowd his space, back gently bumping the curve of obsidian edging around the steaming pool of water. His hands shifted, both settled on Mahariel's hips to tug him as close as possible; get him into his lap as he so wished to be.

Each kiss had him laughing, head tilted to eagerly return them. "In a hot spring beside a volcano in a strange land? Oddly specific..."