*jumps a little when he feels your hand on his thigh and takes a deep breath before he lifts your hand off his thigh and onto your thigh and that's really not much better because, hi, you're wearing a kilt*
*rapidly places both hands on the table* *in a very kind, explanatory tone* No, Ehtello. That's the wedding cake. We can't have any till after dinner when Idril and Tuor cut it.