Bulma and Gohan sipped on black coffee. They huddled around a greasy tool bench. Gohan's khaki slacks and button-down shirt were filthy with smudges. Bulma's canvass work overalls were permanently stained a faded, muddy brown. Slicks of oil made her hair stand in natural cow-licks. She shamelessly gawked at the sputtering machinery laying on the bench. She politely waited for Gohan to finish explaining the problem and his observations. She already knew what the calculations couldn't fathom.

Upstairs, Bulla and Pan sat on Bulla's bed. Bulla wore her makeshift pajamas. Although freshly showered, she still felt gross from days on end of Whis' lessons. The reprieve was needed and glorious to her. The quiet between her and Pan was comfortable and peaceful. Pan's presence made the starch white room feel even more cozy under the dimmed lights. Pan thumbed through her magazine "Just Another Teen Chronicle", she glanced at the latest make up tips but felt out of place. Pan grabbed her phone and rolled onto her back.

"Hey B.B., come check this out," Pan said.

Bulla tossed her copy of 'Don Quixote' on the bed and laid next to Pan.

" 'Womb mates or a date?,' "Bulla read, "Oh my God. W-T-F Pan," she said with a scolding laugh.

"So the whole point of the website is to see if we can tell who are siblings and who is dating," Pan explained.

"What?," Bulla's voice curdled into a high pitched inquiry.

"It's a lot harder than you think," Pan giggled.

"Alright, let's go weirdo," Bulla said squinting at the screen, "Easy- dating," she declared confidently.

Pan made her selection in bold pink letters. Several rounds of poor choices and laughter passed the time.

"I suck at this," Bulla laughed with a surprised smile on her lips.

"Me too," Pan muttered.

"You okay?," Bulla questioned, taking note of her friend's down cast gaze.

"Something's wrong with me, but I'm too weirded out by it to tell anyone about it."

"Go on, sounds juicy," Bulla said.

"So, I know you can keep a secret right?"

"Tell you what, I'll tell you a secret too, as collateral," Bulla said.

"I feel weird about Marron," Pan said.

"What do you mean? You guys fighting again, or something?"

"No, not like that, I-,"

"Oh," Bulla said with wide eyes.

"Kind of but not exactly. I feel super emotionally connected to her. She's my best friend like you, but different," Pan explained.

"Pan," Bulla began carefully constructing her next sentence, "Do you think that you're a lesbian, you know, like you're into women?"

"Not really. There's no physical attraction to her at all. I'm sexually turned on to men. It's so weird though, like I'm a dog guarding a bone."

"You're protective of her that's all," Bulla explained to her.

"I just feel like she's less able to fend for herself if something happens. I catch myself thinking like this about mom and granny-Chi, too."

Bulla sat in silence, eye-balling Pan. An anxious smile glossed Pan's lips. She began to fidget with her phone to relieve the tension.

"I just made it weird didn't I?," Pan interrupted the silence.

"Nah bae, you're good. I was just thinking about your predicament. I'm gonna chew that a while. I don't feel attraction to anyone in a sexual sense. Nothing really gets me going. I'm just defective or something," Bulla said.

"You're not defective dum-dum, don't say that."

"At first, I thought I was asexual or something, but I can't help but wonder if it's because I'm not totally human. Know what I mean?," Bulla said.

"So, you don't think humans can get you hot and bothered. Is that what you're trying to Bulla-splain in your incognito code? Well, I don't think so. Look at your dad and my grandpa. They're full bloods and our existence is evidence to the contrary," Pan said.

"I'm not saying I'll never do the deed. I'm saying our brains, you and I, aren't wired like everyone else."

"Maybe," Pan said shrugging her shoulders, "Hear me out…I've got an idea."

Vegeta threw open the GR door and stormed across his lawn, reeking of sweat, and he was angry to boot. A rhythmic chime echoed from the GR entrance. He left the door ajar, eager to hush the annoying dings of the alarm.

"Excuse me," a man called to him over the croaking frogs.

"What has she ordered now?," Vegeta barked as he approached.

The delivery man flipped his grey hat off his head by its bill. He ruffled his hair and shoved his hands into the pockets of his matching grey jumpsuit. Vegeta paused and examined the stack of labeled cardboard boxes. They were precariously perched on a red hand dolly. Vegeta slapped his hand on the control panel, shutting down the alarm.

"Sir, these are for Mrs. Brief, can you-"

"You're late," Vegeta hushed him, "No deliveries after 8:00PM, and you're at the wrong door."

The man, keeled his head over his shoulder in pause. He glanced down at his green patch nametag and scrawled a smile across his shaded face.

"My apologies, I'm new with World Class Direct Packaging. They gave me the gate code but didn't tell me how to get to the workshop."

"Drop your shit and get out. I don't have time for-"

"Look, I need a signature. This is certified, so Mrs. Brief needs to sign this, in person."

Vegeta sealed his lips. Many moons passed since another man had the audacity to speak over him. The boldness sent a tingle down his spine. Strobing lights pulled Vegeta's eyes. The glass balcony door above flashed with cool blue light.

"How are the girls still awake," he griped before turning his attention back to the delivery man. The man twisted his head back toward Vegeta, mirroring him almost.

"I'm sorry to take your time, but can you get her for me?"

"No, she's working. Either drop the shit or don't. Pack it back into your truck and come again tomorrow. I'll tell her you were here," Vegeta gripped.

Vegeta brushed by him and unlocked the door with his handprint. He slipped inside, illuminated by white hall lights. The delivery man gingerly grabbed the door, pressing his fingers into the glass.

"You would really be helping me out it-"

"Get lost," Vegeta scolded him.

Vegeta paced through the maze of hallways without giving it another thought. He made quick work of the stairs and turned the corner, strolling past his own bedroom. A blue halo leaked from the crack beneath Bulla's door. Loud guttural voices pierced his ears.

Probably watching Kaiju's vs. Gorilla King again, he thought.

He wasn't one for stereotypes, but raising a daughter often surprised him. She was much more vulgar than Trunks was at the same age. He would never forget the time he got a phone call from Orange Star Academy. The principal's demanding voice gonged through his head.

"Your daughter and Pan Son nearly suffocated a classmate. They held his head under a gym towel, trapped with his own flatulence! Come get her this instant!"

Vegeta balled his fist with a sigh. He banged on the door and called, "Lights out."

He heard them scuttle around inside the room as the bed squeaked over their giggling. The blue halo at his feet disappeared. Vegeta continued down the hallway. He paused at the sound of intense snickering. He rolled his eyes as the blue light flickered one again beneath the door. Their boldness was infuriating and amusing at the same time. He rolled his eyes at Pan's voice, "Holy crap, we almost got caught."

"I told you, he always knocks," Bulla tried to whisper.

Vegeta raised a brow at the conversation, contemplating that he had spoiled her. He turned to leave, remembering a sandwich waited for him in the kitchen. Soda cans popping, clued him into the girls' evening festivities.

Kami, how are they still eating?, Vegeta thought.

"Is that a vibrator?"

Vegeta stopped in his tracks. He couldn't tell who said it- nor did he particularly care. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second while blush chewed at the bridge of his nose and ears. His hands clenched into tight fists. He stomped back to her door, red faced. He twisted the handle, breaking the lock in the process. He shoved it wide open. The girls jumped in their skin. Bulla slammed Pan's laptop lid shut, but it was too late. They didn't dare say a word. Vegeta's stark eyes settled on them. His dark presence stuck out like a sore thumb in the white room. Cozy gold accents decorated the walls. Vines and leaves seemed to creep from every nook and cranny. Macrame planters dangled from the walls. Glowing yellow sting lights zigzagged across the ceiling.

The images of nude bodies and genitalia burned into his retinas.

"Vegeta-Sama," Pan rattled, "It was my idea."

"I don't care whose idea it was," He said after a cleansing breath. He paused unsure of how to rationally proceed next.

"Pan, pack your things and go downstairs. I'm getting your father," he said.

Pan stood from the bed with tears streaking her face. She knew Gohan would be displeased, but didn't fear the pending reaction. Pure embarrassment weighted her shoulders. Guilt spilled from her eyes. 'I'm sorry', she silently mouthed to Bulla while shoving her clothes in her backpack. Bulla offered Pan an understanding nod, still sitting in her bed with her knees tucked beneath her chin.

"Bye Pan-Chan," Bulla said as Vegeta corralled her friend to the door.

"Stay here, I'll be back," Vegeta ordered his daughter.

Thirty-four quiet minutes passed after Vegeta closed the door. Bulla didn't even get out of her oval shaped bed. She kept her eyes glued to the ticking clock on her vanity. Blue Bell, Bulla's cat laid on her feet. To the untrained eye, she was a saggy mass of grey hair. She tracked litter everywhere, forsaking basic hygiene due to arthritis. Bulla stroked her lumpy body. Drool leaked from the cat's snaggle toothed mouth. A wheezy snore escaped from her flat Persian face. Bulla grimaced at the cat's fruity breath.

"Did I give you your insulin this evening?," Bulla asked the geriatric fur-wad.

Bulla imagined her mother bringing home a tiny kitten with thick, iron colored fur before she was even born. A kind adoring smile formed on her face.

"Now, you look like the hair clogs fished out of my shower drain," Bulla laughed.

Vegeta whipped her door open. Bulla tried to stifle her startled expression with little success. Blue Bell lazily rolled to her belly, shapeshifting into a dozed loaf. She closed her green eyes with a sloppy slow-blink. Bulma emerged behind Vegeta's back.

"Bulla, your father said you and Pan were doing something-"

"That behavior is unacceptable-filthy," Vegeta seethed, interrupting his wife.

"Vegeta stop. You came and got me. Let me talk," she firmly explained to her husband, "Now, what is he talking about Bulla?"

"Pan and I watched videos."

"Of what," Bulma snapped with a tired wrinkle around her nose.

"Porn."

Bulma stood with her mouth agape and her hand pressed to her forehead.

"Were you and Pan, you know, doing anything with each other?"

"Oh my God, mom, No! It wasn't like that."

"First of all, we've taught you to be descent, and I understand you're getting to a certain age. This is okay; it's normal," she nervously tittered as she tried to seemingly convince herself too, "This is something to do in private. Be respectful, and be discreet. If you have questions about something, it's better to ask me than to watch videos that are made for fanfare. Sometimes they don't reflect reality."

"This is okay," Vegeta mimed Bulma in disbelief, "No, no, no, no- you are to be a lady. I will not have you engaging in such smut like a common whore. It's shameful!"

"Like you have any right to talk about shame dad," Bulla said.

"Hush! I've strived to afford you the privilege of purity."

"Dad, you've fucking killed people!"

"That's none of your concern, Eschalot! You don't know what you say," he said steadying his voice.

"Oh yeah, well I know you probably hit up every space-cooch in the galaxy before you met mom."

"Bulla!," Bulma scolded her, "I can't believe you said that."

"You've disgraced me," Vegeta said, turning his back to her. The flatness of his voice bothered Bulla the most. His tone had never been so dead pan toward her- so disappointed.

"What a shame and a waste of my efforts," he said.

"We'll finish this tomorrow," Bulma intervened, "Bulla Briefs, don't you come out of this room till morning, and you're going to clean up this jungle you call a bedroom before you go to sleep."

"Yes," Bulla complied.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Bulma lingered in the doorway after Vegeta was long gone. She slyly eyeballed her daughter with her pupils hitting the corners of her eyes, "You," she began quietly, "Owe your father a huge apology. He would never just come out and say it, but that broke his heart."