Neverwinter Forest On some level, food knows its' food.

Belharra grinned, ignoring Mal’s insult. She may be rough around the edges, but Belharra hadn’t fallen off the turnip cart yesterday and bruised her bum. A good part of her obnoxiousness was for show as much as having a good time - it routinely made people underestimate her (like Mal) and routinely gave her the advantage of surprise on the rare occasion she decided to impart her wit. 

On the contrary, that is the best time to make demands. Ye need members that aren’t going to leave your pack unstable — and I need a home. Seems we both stand to benefit, hmm? Belharra returned the over-the-glasses-look, wondering just how much of Mal’s new leaf came from necessity of acquiring honest members rather than a good heart. Now, here’s wot I want.

She leaned in, expression so deadpan not even a wolf like Mal, who was probably used to sniffing out the stank of dishonesty, would realize she was joking:

 I want ye to put a baby in my belly.

Belharra pulled away, those wide eyes still serious. But she could hold the facade no longer and burst into a loud cackle the second she (presumably) saw Mal’s disgust. oooh. Heh. Kidding. Nah, I just want any kids to steer clear of where I sleep. Can’t stand the things. Ye should have seen your face!  Whew. She wiped a laugh-tear from the corner of her cheeks, finding that busting Malligator’s chops might be her new favorite hobby.