[Another swing in the dark, but this one doesn't miss, because insinuation—or in this case a very transparent statement—successfully slashes a grin across his face. He leans, stubs out the remainder of his cigarette on the underside of a boot, then tucks it in his pocket before walking into the room.]

Training is for combat here, not sex. Not that I don't like the fantasy. [A sexy saw horse? He has no idea what that is, but handcuffs are a common, worlds-defying staple, so he can run the premise to its conclusion.] You're gonna have to get that somewhere else. Maybe the simulation room? But then the fucking isn't real.

[Cain's mind wanders, because now he's curious if anyone has ever tried that before, back in the Alliance. A curious, horny technician could do it easy.]

Sure, I'll protect you. [Weight leaning to one side with his arms crossed, Cain looks confident.] But you're a pretty big guy, I think they'll see you right behind me. And I don't have any of that fancy magic stuff. All I've got are guns, knives, and fists. And maybe some handcuffs.