With a quick glance to her husband, Cecilia extended a claw, and Handy braced himself for the one custom that extended across worlds for some unfathomable reason. He tried not to squirm as he took her claw in his gloved hand and lightly pecked her on the 'knuckle' where her middle talon met the base of her claw. Funny thing about griffon claws: despite appearances, whatever the hell they were made of was smooth and pliant. To his alarm, Handy felt a small beat of a blood vessel when his mouth touched the claw, and pulled back with as much dignity, grace, and speed as decorum allowed. Thankfully, griffon tradition mandated only the lightest of taps since, you know, beaks. 