Becca smiled, happy that she had finally introduced herself to Darion. Her smile faltered when, after a short introduction, his attention was immediately elsewhere. When she followed his gaze she could hardly blame him. The red painted lady was unbelievably beautiful. Becca could not truly believe what she was seeing was real but what could another explanation be? Modified stealthboy field, advanced robots? Blushing at her silly notions, she admitted that the much more obvious answer was the she was just a little jealous.<br/><br/>She listened the the painted lady, Fanya, talk and was mesmerized. Even the woman's voice dripped with sexual undertones. When Fanya caught her staring and blew her a kiss Becca's blush deepened enough to almost match the red paint. The embarrassed mechanic fidgeted much like all the others caught up by the temptress. The mention of Jynx brought her to her senses at least temporarily. She managed to tear her eyes away from those perfect red painted breasts to look in on how the surgery was going. A worried frown creased her lips and she decided that it would be better if she didn't look.<br/><br/>The commotion if Duos bringing the rifle to Fanya's chest drew her attention and the reaction held her captivated. She was suddenly and unexpectedly jealous if her father's old rifle. The rooms that they were being provided really needed a shower because Becca would need a cold one.  After that things seemed to move quickly. Annie stripped off her chest armor, and Becca had to admire her figure. Emma seemed to proposition Fanya and seemed much more sexual while doing so. Maybe it had to do with how aroused Becca found herself or maybe it was just the exhaustion setting in but she felt shaky and hit and everything seemed so sexually charged.<br/><br/>Yes, a cold shower, long and icy, would definitely be in order and then a long night sleep... alone. Becca  studiously stared at the floor in front of her feet. She tried and failed to keep naughty thoughts from her mind; thoughts that ranged from a very fit sniper to being sandwiched between two mohawked women to various other things. Her hands, resting on her thighs, tightened to a grip that bordered on painful.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>