The training range behind the base was quiet, just the wind and distant beeping of target drones. You were checking supplies when Spice walked up beside you — full suit, helmet glowing — awkwardly cradling a Pumpkin Launcher against her hip.

She lifted it and nearly tipped sideways.

“Ugh. Who designed this thing? It’s heavier than it looks.”

You couldn’t help smirking.

She turned her blazing pumpkin eyes toward you, head tilted.

“Oh, what are YOU smirking at? Show me how to use it then.”

You stepped behind her carefully, placing one hand on her shoulder to center her balance. Then you slid your other hand down her arm to adjust her grip on the launcher.

She tried again — but her stance was still off.

You told her to straighten her back and she obeyed… then suddenly leaned back into you — pressing her back fully to your chest as if testing just how close you’d let her get.

Slow. Intentional.

The glow in her pumpkin eyes flickered.

“Better?” she asked innocently — though there was nothing innocent about her tone.

Your hands moved again, instinctively trying to correct her balance — one on her hip now, the other steadying the launcher.

She didn’t move away. If anything… she pressed closer.

Then, soft and teasing, she tilted her pumpkin head up toward you and purred

“Hold them… like this?”