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“Seriously?” blurted Doyle. “You’re dating Gilda Gossip? Isn’t she a...”

Blabbermouth? Underachiever? Particularly scaly nonhuman?

“...g-girl?”

Aimee groaned. This was the Space 1980’s, but sometimes Doyle acted like he was stuck in the Space 1950’s, and hadn’t learned anything in Space Sex Ed. “Technically her species has twelve different reproductive sexes...”

“I mean, does she have the ‘parts’ to do...y’know...” Doyle made a few incoherent gestures with his hands.

You’re not dating her. None of your business what she looks like naked”

Doyle sighed. “Yeah, I guess. Sorry.”

“Besides,” said Aimee smugly, “even with clothes on? She has five mouths.”