Bert laughed good-naturedly, patting her on the head. "It's alright, fair maiden. You're in the hands of a gunslinger now, and I swear on my father's face that I shall not leave you!" And he struck a dramatic pose, as much as he could while also supporting her full weight. "Come on, arms around my neck, that's right. Do I have to carry you again, or are you going to stop puling and limp along with me?"

All right, so he might have momentarily forgotten that he wasn't talking to one of the boys in his tet. Maybe, very briefly. Ah, well. Blame it on the wine.