He makes a bit of a dismissive sound, waving his hand. It was nothing like that. It had just been funny, and something that he could instantly sympathise with. If he were a photographer, he can't imagine that he'd like photographing wealthy families either.

Before he can elaborate or say anything else, though, Albert is leaning in and ... It can hardly be called a kiss at all, but there's no question about the intent. It's ... surprising, because despite complaining about portraits and that willingness to be eaten by wolves and alligators, Albert always seemed like someone who is proper. So even if Arthur might have wondered, might have suspected, with the casual way Albert would touch him and compliment him, that there was something else there, it wasn't a thought he'd lingered on. He hadn't wanted to. And there had been so many opportunities for Albert to do this, away from a society that would tell them it's wrong, and he chose not to.

While he doesn't flinch away or anything, he also doesn't move, frozen on the spot with surprise. Not that it stops his heart from racing or his cheeks from turning a little red beneath wide eyes.