"Well, how does that children's rhyme go, which you Earth-creatures find so appealing in the playground?" I begin to sing-song: "'You're the queen of the castle, and I'm the dirty rascal.' Something like that." I've twisted the words a bit to suit my needs, but who cares?

I gently rub her stomach and send a crackle of power across her skin. Another child. Oh, my...

"I'll be the dirty rascal, aye?" And I pull her in for a sloppy kiss.