Nbeke, you're in one of Master Chef's labs. Probably checking on the drug output or something, but what did you tell her and why is she so happy to see you? Either way, she's got something important she's putting together, which is why the place is such a disaster area. She has a really cute biting-her-lip crossed eyes look when she's measuring the whatever the fuck it is. "Don't touch that, boss!"
She's not getting uppity, she's trying to save you from doing something stupid. What happened last time someone didn't listen to her?
In case you forgot, here's her about-to-pop self, moving around the tight lab with some effort.
I've no idea where her little replacement has gotten off to- probably messing around in the hard lab, right? Maybe they're getting better if Master Chef is fine leaving them alone. You seen 'em?
Fuck yeah I saw that scrawny motherfucker — gave the li'l bitch a fuckin' drink ticket. Tol' him, "take a fuckin' hike. Papa Nbeke's takin' over." I come in quiet as my boots'll let me, clompin' like a damn fool... I stop dead when she tells me not to touch that shit on her bench. Bitch knows me too well... I like playin' with shit. "A'right, a'right," I answer softly, backin' off, "damn woman, ain't you fine today..." I ain't gunna get my fuckin' hand blown off, like Eaglehead. This shit is vo-la-tile, ya dig?
I move in closer to her, an' take up a spot beside her, so's I can see that sexy fuckin' face she makes while she works. "Managed to scrounge you up some extra pillows 'n shit fo' that makeshift crib you buildin' — I also swung some time inna whirlpool tonight, if you wanna join me."
Still focused on the delicate mixings, she hip-checks you playfully with those comfortable hips she has now. "I likes the idea of real pillows an' sheets, Papa Nbeke." Drip drip drip goes the yellow whatever. Maybe subconsciously she sticks out her chest some, knowing you're looking. "An' little Mama here would super love some whirlpool time. What'd you give up to swing that?" There's a look in the corner of her eye, you can tell she's wondering what she's gonna have to give up for some whirlpool time.
I smack that ass as it comes my way, watch it jiggle nice an' fine. Damn straight I'm lookin' at dem titties floatin' in 0.9g... I lick my lips, 'cause why wouldn't I? "I treat my girls right, li'l mama. Don'choo worry none 'bout what Papa Nbeke gave up for whirlpool time — a li'l extra guard duty on the first-class decks don't mean shit for some quality time with the sexiest woman in the fuckin' Core."
Call me a fuckin' softie, but I'm a sucker for a woman with a big-ass belly like that. The woman puts up some tender time, comes spends the night in my bed — no fuckin' drama, like the fuckin' quartet — an' I'll be fuckin' happy. Plus, the woman's birthin' a future member of my fuckin' militia — that shit makes me right proud. She's a good fuckin' woman too, Master Chef... Lotsa boys'd be right happy to sleep with her, ya dig? "Why you lookin' at me like that? You think Papa Nbeke's got somethin' evil up his sleeve?" I say it like I'm all offended, but she sees I'm smilin'.
Damn. Can't I just make a woman happy?
(Rolled: 2d6+1. Rolls: 3, 2. Total: 6)