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Bright High Brush
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You decide it's a good idea to get some food.
>Qay could definitely eat.
The two of you head over to the lounges, Qay carrying you a bit longer than strictly necessary, and you suggest a meatball sub, to which Qay readily agrees.
For as large as she is, and as impressively massive as the meatball sub they give her is, her mouth is shockingly small, and two-fisting a sloppy meatball sub isn't precisely the cleanest way to eat. You watch a single meatball descent, bounce off her breast, and roll onto the floor. It barely touches the tile before some random C.Org snatches it up and pops it into her mouth. Qay doesn't seem to notice, though.
You praise her for her quick reaction and also tell her how impressive her backflip was.
>Qay seems to really enjoy the compliments.
"Oh, well, you know, I'm gonna look out for my commander, of course!" she says with marinara and cheese smeared all over her face, neck and chest. And hands. And forearms.
"Next time we go," you say, "We'll try out the big pool."
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