Samus doesn't like Martin's comment.

"Oh," 'Samus' perked up at Martin's comment. Tim felt anxious. Despite it being a different body, he recognized the inflection in the voice. Samus' lips curled into a dangerous smile as she sauntered toward Martin, her hips swaying with each step. The Zero Suit clung to her form, emphasizing every curve as she stopped just inches from him.

"So, Martin," she purred, tilting her head, "would you like me to fuck you?"

Martin blinked, then grinned. "Hell yeah—"

His answer was cut short as Samus' fist rocketed into his gut with a sickening *thud*. He doubled over, wheezing, only for her knee to slam into his face, snapping his head back. He collapsed into a chair. Samus planted her boot firmly between Martin’s legs, pressing down just enough to make him gasp. She leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear as her breath—warm and sweet—sent a shiver down his spine.

*"Let’s get one thing straight,"* she murmured, her voice a velvet threat. *"You don’t make those kinds of jokes with me. Understood?"

"Yes," Martin replied both scared and aroused but mostly scared.

Samus then takes her boot off Martin. She composes herself and then turns to Tim.

Walter turned to Tim, her gloved fingers flexing and unflexing at her sides. The dangerous smirk from moments before had melted into something hesitant—almost sheepish. Her blue eyes darted away, then back, the proud warrior's posture giving way to the slightest hunch of her shoulders.

Tim recognized it instantly. That was *Dad’s* tell. The same way Walter would rub his neck after losing his temper during one of Tim’s science fair disasters.

"Uh... so," Samus started, crossing her arms, then uncrossing them, like she wasn’t sure what to do with them. The Zero Suit’s fabric whispered with every shift. "That might’ve been...a little over the top." She cleared her throat, rubbing the back of her neck—an awkward gesture that looked almost comical coming from the legendary bounty hunter’s body.

Tim just shrugged, unfazed. "Honestly? I thought you were gonna shoot him."

Samus blinked, then let out a sharp, startled laugh—Walter’s laugh, unmistakable even in this new voice. "Nah, even I’m not *that* trigger-happy." She rolled her shoulders, the Zero Suit stretching taut over her muscles. "So can I crash?"

Tim exhaled through his nose. "Yeah, sure. Take my room." He gestured toward the hallway, watching as the Zero Suit's glossy material caught the light with every subtle shift of Samus'—no, *Walter's*—weight.

Samus' shoulders relaxed instantly, relief softening the tension in her jaw. "Thanks, kid." She reached out like she might ruffle his hair, then hesitated, her fingers curling back as she remembered the difference in their heights now. A quiet, awkward beat passed before she cleared her throat. "Couch doesn’t look half bad, though."

Tim snorted, already dragging a spare blanket from the hall closet.