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Summary
“Damn it, Tucker!” Because of course, of course, by the time they figured out what he had done it was far too late to stop the temple glowing in the distance from completing its task.
Tucker unapologetically shrugs, climbs down from the warthog he'd “borrowed” for the trip to said temple, and meets Washington's eyes casually. “Stop worrying.”
Which, strangely enough, had the complete opposite effect. “That is NOT what Kimball meant by ‘needing a boost to the population’!”
“Dude, this is literally what the temple of procreation is for. Enjoy it. Get laaaaaid.”