Being the best of the Boltons had to be something akin to being Westeros's tallest dwarf, but that was all in the back of Matthrew's mind and none too eager to make it to the forefront. "To your kin in the north, who will always remember you, you are Kyra." Without another outlet left to him, he leaned down and kissed her on the mouth -- ambiguous as he could stand to make it, if she was not thinking the same thoughts he was.