If she's surprised to see him, then stupefied might be a more fitting description of her reaction to the kiss. He does stupid things, why he does them quite often, but this is a first. Something this intimate uninvited, and more shockingly, in plain sight of any unfortunate soul who might happen upon them in the hallway.

Unfortunate, perhaps, because Anne would have seen to it they would have their tongue and fingers removed, then buried a hundred feet beneath the soil, never to utter secrets to another living soul.

But she doesn't allow the chance, for as soon as Anne's wits return, she jerks back and moves to slap him, though she half expects his hand to halt hers. It does, and of course the gall fills her with a cold anger. The slap had mostly been for show, in any case, but she should be allowed to do so after such rudeness. She has nothing anymore but her false pride and reputation, at least to those who know nothing of England's history, which he should know. Perhaps he might be too drunk to even make sense, but she smelled no alcohol on his breath.

After checking, with great relief, that no peeping eyes had witnessed their interaction, she impatiently grabs hold of his tie, yanking hard to drag him in before shutting the door with care only to not draw any attention. When she speaks, it comes out as a near hiss, her nails clawing at the fabric of the tie as she yanks him back down to her level, as if to kiss him again. While near snarling.

"Have you lost your wits? Or do you wish so terribly to become one head shorter?"