Rosie unobtrusively held out two glasses of water. Nessa reached up, grabbed the glass and sat back right where she was, taking a long drink herself. "You seem to think that I don't want this, want you," she said, tilting her head to the left inquisitively. "If I didn't want you, we wouldn't be here now," she said, beckoning him with a 'come hither' from her free hand. "I don't know what you may have heard about how we do things, but we're all very proud sluts here," she continued before finishing off the glass and handing it back to Rosie as she stood. Her tank top vanished with a blink of her eyes, the black fabric liquefying to shiny silver goo that fell off her shoulder, slid town her torso, pooled itself at her feet and solidified into a dark gray lump. It revealed her teardrop shaped breasts, having freed them from a bra at the same time, and her tight, almost-washboard stomach. "It's not a dirty word here, and we find it's counterproductive to make a game out of desire." Her eyes went to the ceiling for a second, then she looked at his feet, then his eyes. "It makes us seem like we come on strong, or are forward, because back where you come certain elements look down upon girls who do that, no?"