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Edgar Reade doesn't want to upset his partner; he has concerns about her cooking a 'serious' meal,
such as a multi-course Thanksgiving repast. He adopts a light-herated tone for which to couch his question:
"So, you're cooking, Loca? That's a lot for one person to take on."

"It's good...I face-time with your Mom for the recipes. Also, when they were here for the Baby Shower, she
tasted some of my fried chicken, and mashed potatos. Neither is as good as HERS, but she gave me a passing grade."

"A'ight, then. Still, I say that Patterson, Allison, Jane...wait, not Jane-WELLER!-Weller should contribute to the labor..."

"THANK YOU...for bringing me home.You saved me."

"What, now?"

"You brought me home-I don't mean just HERE...I mean...with YOU and Gris."

"GRIS?"

"Griselda Filomena Reade Zapata." Zapata only holds it together for a few seconds before bursting into loud laughter.

"Ahhhh: H-M-F-N-W: in case you didn't copy that, over your ridiculous laugh, it means Hell Fucking No Way."

Tasha continues to guffaw, to Reade's increasing consternation.

"You don't really intend to name our child THAT, if she's a girl....right?

"NATASHA!!"

All she'll say is, (with a twinkle in her eye): "I'd behave if I were you."