"Get rid of it."
Bulma, buried up to the elbows in the circuitry of the space pod's gravity machine (again), paused in her work and turned a raised eyebrow on her companion.
"Excuse me?"
Vegeta, leaning against the control panel and watching her work, scowled like she should know very well what he was talking about. She waited a few seconds for him to continue, and when he failed to elaborate she shrugged and went back to fixing the machine.
"The child," he grunted eventually. "Get rid of it."
Bulma withdrew from the console again, more slowly this time. Keeping her eyes on him, her expression guarded, she carefully wiped her hands off on the rag tucked into her waistband.
"What child?"
"Don't play dumb with me, woman!" he spat. "The child! The one growing in your infernal womb!"
She could have started anywhere. She could have gone straight from cautious to livid in under a second, and she could have chosen any number of reasons for which to do it. What he was suggesting (demanding) in and of itself was reason enough to give him a good kick in his princely fruits. Calling her womb 'infernal' – ridiculous as it was – struck a tender nerve as well.
But Bulma was a logical woman, and logically she knew this conversation was far from over. Descending into a screaming match early in the game wouldn't end the argument any faster, and if he made her any angrier, she'd only have to get louder. She had a meeting tomorrow so she couldn't afford to shout herself hoarse like she had the last time.
Best save it, she decided.
"How did you find out?" she asked, wiping beads of work-induced sweat from her forehead with an arm.
"Your mother," he replied, irritated, and Bulma almost laughed. She could almost picture how that conversation would have gone.
"And you want me to get rid of it... why?"
"I am an elite warrior!" Bulma rolled her eyes. So she was going to get that old war cry. "The androids will be here in less than a year, and I have to train to be ready for them! I don't have time to waste on you or your spawn."
Bulma's eye twitched. Hold on... Just a little while longer...
"Newsflash Vegeta: me and my 'spawn' didn't ask for your help. It's not like I can't raise it by myself y'know."
At this Vegeta snorted. "And have it grow up to adopt your decadent human ways? Not a chance! No child of mine is going to be raised a weakling!"
Nope. Bulma wasn't even going to touch that can of worms. Where he got the idea that humans were 'decadent' was beyond her comprehension. Had he even met the other Z-warriors? Most of them had lived in the wilderness for a good chunk of their lives!
"So that's it? You want me to get rid of it, just because you tell me to?" she snapped, feeling her tenuous grip on her temper start to slip.
"That is correct."
Clearly thinking he'd won, Vegeta resumed a more relaxed slouching position and closed his eyes.
"And if I want the baby?" The danger in her tone was almost imperceptible, but it was there.
Vegeta, however, obviously didn't catch it.
"Then you will just have to wait until such times as I am ready to produce offspring."
CLANG!
He didn't even see it coming, which was probably how she'd managed to hit him at all. The force of the blow juddered up the wrench and made all the bones in her fingers scream with pain. She initially tried to hold on to the tool, but gave up when her fingers started to throb in earnest and dropped it with another resounding clang on the floor.
Cradling the pulsing appendage to her chest, Bulma glared at the Saiyan prince with unconcealed rage. Naturally, he seemed entirely unhurt. In fact, he'd barely moved, and if he was annoyed by her attempt on his life, it didn't show.
"You arrogant, pig-headed, jumped-up royal jerk!" she raged, doing her best to ignore the casually quirked eyebrow and mildly bemused expression.
"What's crawled up your back all of a sudden, woman?"
"This isn't just your decision, you... you bastard! And in case it escaped your notice, this is a life we're talking about here! And you-"
"Enough of this foolishness!" Vegeta boomed. If looks could kill, the daggers Bulma sent his way then would have dropped him like a point-blank kamehameha. "Already your emotions have become unpredictable. I command you to purge yourself of this inconvenience tomorrow and no later. Then we can return to more pressing matters, like my training for instance."
Bulma's jaw dropped. She almost couldn't believe what she'd just heard.
"Y-you... you order me?" She stumbled over the words, a tiny, shocked laugh escaping her lips. "You order me?"
"Are you deaf as well as hysterical?"
A deadly calm settled over the scientist then, the kind that to this day still made Krillin and Goku tremble. Angry Bulma was easy to deal with. Sure she shouted a lot, and she was prone to lash out, but this Bulma – 'Doom Bulma' Krillin and Goku had dubbed her – was far more dangerous. This Bulma was unpredictable, and had been known, in the past, to confiscate food (which was quite evil considering Goku's voracious appetite).
"Vegeta..."
"Hm?" The Saiyan prince looked up quizzically.
"I AM KEEPING THIS BABY!" she roared.
With that she turned on her heel and stormed out of the space pod, nose high in the air. Behind her, Vegeta spluttered and protested, but his words went unheeded. Then, realising something, he called after her with more clarity.
"Woman! What about my gravity machine?!"
"Fix your own damn machine!" was the distant response.