Those nails could probably do a lot of damage to someone's cheek, if the Medicine Seller chose to wield them that way. Kit closes his eyes at the touch, then tilts his head in a way that grants his strange friend easy access to his throat and collarbone.

"It depends," comes that dry monotone response, with a coy note in it this time, "on how long you last."

His smiles wider, cracks his eyes open and raises both eyebrows. "Mm, trying to keep up with you?" he starts, a soft sound of enjoyment, and reaches out a hand to slip his fingers along the line of the Medicine Seller's jaw, stroking a thumb across his cheekbone. (His touch seems incapable of being anything but tender.) "I like a challenge."

Then he leans in to kiss his mouth--unless stopped, of course.