The servants, as one, stepped back, in involuntary fear.
"N-N-No?" She stepped forward, driving one heel deep in the mud, holding her skirt up with some violence, "Hah, hah, I-I-I do NOT believe you understand QUITE what I am offering here-"
Brother Tullus shook his head, running a gauntlet over his short cropped hair, then frowning as he gazed on it, "Oh but I do. It's not been the first time some dynasty has gotten the idea to augment its gene pool, and believe you me I am ENTIRELY flattered, but it just won't work."
Lady Memnon flustered, stuttered then shouted, "WHY not?"
Brother Tullus, unable to help him self, set his eyes at a crawl to the heavens as he spread his arms, despairing of what passed for nobility these past centuries, "Are you honestly asking this?"
Lady Memnon glanced down, before petulantly muttering something about armor and really how he could let her do the work.
"Do you really want to tackle the physics of this? Sure, in theory, I can take off my tonnes of armor, ignoring the many bionics and enhancements throughout my person and the fact I'm unsure the equipment even works anymore, lay myself down on the ground, and you could hop up and down on me, and it would have all the erotic appeal of a woman humping a pipe set in a ground."
Some titters and giggles erupted from the crowd as she turned crimson, as he continued, "This of course precludes the actually possibility of birthing a child with my modified genes," he waved his hand at her dainty form, "Something I wouldn't wish upon you. Finally, I'm a servant of the Emperor, not some Johnny call boy, and I have REAL work to do," He let his arm drop, as he shook his head, and redonned his helmet, "Call up some hiver, I'm sure he'd be only too glad."
The space marine returned to his comrades, who silently stared back at him, and the unmoving Lady Memnon, frozen with fury and embarrassment.