Whenever he thought about the future — and however blurry the future had become — Brad Majors always saw himself as a father. Not that he was driven by any sort of visceral desire in that matter, but the vision of it had been meticulously engraved in his mind, his brains carved beyond repair. Thus he saw himself as a father, by default, and would probably become one someday, likewise. Sad, when he thought of it… His focus shifted to the shaking shape beside him, allowing him to come to his senses : his poor fiancée couldn't afford such a cogitation now.

"I think I need a doctor," Janet said, her eyes wandering nowhere.

"Doctor, yes, of course! " Brad squeaked frantically with erratic gestures.

"Why I'm right here!" Frank said with a shrug.

"And my coat," she added, still ignoring the scientist's presence.

The latter, as a matter of fact, had remained pretty calm since the dreadful discovery, his eyes riveted on Janet's bump. His slight smirk did reveal much of the thoughts dwelling inside him, for it was the same kind he flaunted when he was about to kill you, kiss you… or worse.

"Your coat," Brad nodded slowly, still processing this whole "Where's your coat, Janet?"

"In the closet."

"Next to your fiancé I gather," Frank jeered and sniggered.

In a fit of embarrassment, Brad gazed down immediately and thus wasn't able to see a tiny fist rip through the air to land on Frank's face. Instead, he just heard a muffled sound followed by a small cry. When he raised his head, Janet was massaging her knuckles while Frank did the same with his reddened cheekbone.

"Oh my god Frank! Are you alright?"

"She hit me!" he wailed as he turned to face Brad.

"Yeah, I hit you, and I'd do it again, gladly! All of this is your fault, and you did this to me!" Janet let out an infuriated roar, pointing out her belly.

Hearing her last sentence, Frank removed his hand from his cheek to place it on his hip, an insolent smile blossoming on his lips.

"Sweet simple Janet, there's no way I'd ever put something as precious as my heir inside you, and even if I would, well… you look at least five months pregnant." Janet gaped for a while, seemingly half relieved and half outraged as he finished his demonstration. "So either you lied and lost your maidenhood way before that night, or you didn't, which means we're facing something rather unnatural."

Saying so, he gave a meaningful look to Brad, who suddenly felt something click.

"Rocky!"

"That very one," he acknowledged, taking his own chin between his thumb and his index finger as to stroke an imaginary beard. "Odd, really… and unexpected."

"Ugh, you gotta be kidding me!" she hissed, her hazel gaze locked on Frank. "Isn't Rocky supposed to be your creation, the embodiment of your unmatched genius?"

Enunciated with perfect clarity, her words also oozed irony.

"I didn't design him for reproductive purposes. He's the first artificial man ever made : how was I supposed to know he could breed? And, might I add, had you not been a senseless slag, that question would have remained a mystery."

Enraged by that not-so-gratuital provocation, she pounced on him again, fisting his satin shirt with her hands and shaking him strenuously.

"You disgusting beast!"

"Janet, enough!" Brad squeaked, ready to take action. "He could actually help us."

His intervention seemed to madden her even more. She opened her mouth as if she was about to speak, but the words — whatever they were — died on her lips. Frank freed himself effortlessly, dusting his shoulder off.

"Indeed I could. Technically speaking, I'm the child's grandfather after all…" He chuckled as he reached to touch Janet's bump, but was quickly stopped by a slap on his hand.

"Don't you dare!" she spat, full of a wrath she'd never displayed before. "Can you do something or not ?"

"And please don't ever call yourself 'grandfather' again," Brad heard himself say, almost nauseous.

He suddenly felt Frank's index skim his chin and jaw, along with an indecent sigh.

"Aren't you the cutest snowflake?" He grinned, eliciting an eye roll from Janet, before returning to some seriousness. "If you do want my help, meet me in front of the elevator downstairs in five minutes. There's something I need to do first."

He then spinned round and left the room, not without giving Brad a subtle wink. The latter inhaled deeply as Frank's silhouette disappeared in the doorway, leaving a trail of his scent - a heavenly combination of lemon and spice - in his wake.

And so they both waited for their makeshift ally to return, standing in the lobby in which all of this mess had started, less than a day ago. Brad couldn't help but feel bewildered when this thought came to his mind. Just a single day… Like the master of the place, time seemed to do as it pleased here.

"Everything's gonna be alright, Janet," he finally said in order to break the thick silence installed since Frank's departure.

Her eyes focused on one of the tacky statues nearby, she let out a joyless giggle and placed her hand on her belly.

"You keep saying that since you've got here. Honestly, at this point, I don't know who you're trying to convince."

"I'm serious!" He made a step towards her and placed his hands on her arms, struggling to pour all the tenderness he could in that desperate gesture. "Once we deal with this situation, we'll go home and…"

"Don't," she cut, wiggling free of his grasp, locking her hazel gaze to his. "Please stop acting like there is still a 'we'. None of us deserves this."

"But I don't understand. We've just got engaged, you're the love of my life and…"

"Even if it's true, and believe me, it's not… doesn't mean you're mine." Her words hit him like a ton of bricks, leaving him numb and short of breath. Misty at first, her eyes suddenly darkened and clung on something beyond Brad's shoulder. "Are-you-for-real?! Changing clothes, that's what you needed to do?"

As she spoke, Brad instinctively turned his head to investigate the source of her exasperation. Frank had indeed changed his pyjamas for his own version of a day-appropriate outfit. His black platform boots matched his figure hugging jumpsuit which displayed a reasonable portion of his chest in a square neckline. The whole outfit was surprisingly understated (or at least as understated as Frank N. Furter could get), save the silky leopard belt cinching his waist.

"Don't be silly, Janet," he soothed pettily, "I had to get this", he then said, fidgeting the familiar object he held in his right hand.

At the sight of it, Brad stammered as his heart began to beat at a frenetic pace while Janet stood there, thoroughly unimpressed.

"W-what's the whip for?" He asked, not sure if his voice could handle more.

"Relax, I won't use it on any of you," he chuckled, as if the answer were self-evident . The green beam of his eyes raked Brad head to toe before his lips moved again. "Unless you beg for it, of course."

"Why are you calling the elevator?" Janet said, her patience and restraint shrinking as the minutes went by.

"Yeah, I thought we were going out," Brad added.

Despite their objections, they both got in, followed by their host. Whatever scheme could he possibly have in mind?

"Out?" Frank repeated, his left eyebrow and lips stretching graciously in unison to form the most sinful expression as he pressed a button with no number on it. "Oh no, sweetface. We're going down!"