Bash is a bit busy looking up at Lucas' fingers and going a bit cross-eyed in the process (he really needs to get himself a haircut, god damn) so the kiss comes as a surprise, despite the very clear signs that preceded it. So he's all caught up for a moment, chasing the motion and almost overbalancing himself - which, wow, this is a thing that he should not be doing in front of strangers with small children. Looking that smacked-upside-the-head stupid in public is probably bad for childhood development or something. Probably somewhere in the DSM-5 under disruptive, impulse-control, and conduct disorders.

"Uh-huh," he says, words totally neat and not at all wandering distractedly along the same tangents his brain is. It's a bit impressive, honestly. "Definitely."

Bash blinks one more time, hastily tugging all of his stray threads in and flashing a wide grin. "Yup. We're good. We're set." He snags Lucas' fingers, tugs them both back into motion. "C'mon. I wanna see how many times we get to see the trailer for Santa Claus Conquers the Martians."