"It was hard to tell, what with you "sleeping in his cabin" and all that," she smirks, glancing at him. "You just don't know what he is like at home. Living with all men, spending all his time with men, his best friend a big poncey queen. It can be enough to make a girl wonder sometimes."

With a small laugh, Molotov leans over to poke his leg. "And who am I to know what you like? Maybe you like all blondes."