It's only when a passerby clears their throat to signal to him that they're still in public does Mamoru break away from the kiss. His hands remain on her hips, palms lightly brushing against her skin where her shirt's ridden up expose her midriff.

"Mistletoe," he says by way of explanation, nodding to the plant above.

That wonderful plant that gave him a reason to kiss her in broad daylight as himself, not Tuxedo Kamen.