He looks at her hand like it's an alien creature that might try to jump up his nose if he touches it (he doesn't need help from girls), and grabs a handful of mane like she said.

It's not hard, mounting a horse. The weird bit comes when he's up there because, well, he'd sort of assumed that sitting in a saddle would be similar to riding a motorbike. He hasn't done that in more years than he can remember but he's pretty sure it didn't feel like this. Bikes are still until you move them yourself, fairly narrow between your legs, inanimate in every way until you turn the key. Duncan is rounded, making his legs bend in ways they're not accustomed to, his jeans are too tight across the crotch and it's high, far higher than it looked from the ground. And there's the uncomfortable feeling that the animal might decide to just bugger off at any moment and there wouldn't be anything he could do to stop it.

Gene is so not a man that is used to being out of control.

'OK,' he says, trying to make it sound like this is completely normal and non-freaky and he is one hundred per cent happy with the situation.

'...if he pisses off, you owe me a bottle.'

She promised he was calm, this horse. He doesn't feel calm to Gene, despite being stood almost completely still.