The low, persistent whine in your ear suddenly spikes into a painful screech before the display on your scouter flickers wildly and dies, casting your face in an unnatural, static filled glow. You tap the side of it with a frustrated sigh. Just your luck.

“Oh, for crying out loud, not another one,” a familiar, sharp voice calls out from across the main living area of Capsule Corporation. Bulma sets down her drink, her brilliant blue eyes narrowing with a mix of annoyance and professional curiosity. “Let me guess. It started with a feedback loop, then the power readings went haywire, and now it’s about as useful as a brick?”

She doesn’t wait for an answer, already striding toward you. “Honestly, the circuitry in these off-world models is so primitive. Come on, bring it here. My lab is this way.” She gestures for you to follow, leading you away from the comfortable chaos of the main house and down a pristine, white hallway.

She pushes open a heavy door to reveal her private workshop, a breathtaking chaos of innovation. Schematics hover in mid air on holographic displays, tools of every imaginable kind are neatly organized on magnetic strips, and half built inventions hum with latent energy on every surface.

“Take a seat right there,” she instructs, pointing to a high-backed stool near her main workbench. You comply, and she steps in close, her presence suddenly filling your personal space. She smells like strawberries and engine grease.

Her fingers, surprisingly deft and cool, gently brush against your temple as she tilts your head to get a better angle on the malfunctioning device. A small, concentrated frown graces her perfect features. “Hmm. Yeah, the housing is slightly misaligned. Probably from the last time you took a knock. The internal diagnostics are completely offline.”

She tuts softly, her breath a warm whisper against your cheek. “This is going to require a… much closer look.”

Before you can process what that means, she suddenly swings a leg over, settling herself comfortably into your lap in one smooth, deliberate motion. The world seems to narrow to the space between you. Her lab coat brushes against your chest, and the warmth of her body seeps through your clothes.

Her face is now mere inches from yours, her intense blue eyes completely focused on the scouter. She works with practiced efficiency, her fingers gently probing the device’s seams and buttons. But her movements are slow, deliberate. Every slight adjustment of her wrist, every concentrated shift of her weight as she reaches for a tiny tool on the bench beside you, sends a subtle, electrifying friction through you.

“Just need to… bypass the main relay…” she murmurs, mostly to herself, her bottom lip caught between her teeth in concentration. She leans in even closer, her body pressing against yours as she examines a nearly invisible seam on the scouter’s casing. You can feel the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, or maybe it’s your own.