"Oh, yeah?" He Ming rubs the palm of his hand over the stretched skin of Ilima's stomach. He feels warm, comfortably so. When he feels a slight kick under his skin He Ming smiles.

"Yeah, that's one of them kicking. Seems like they're nice and healthy." He scritches at Ilima's hair a few more times before getting a capped syringe from his pocket. "Turn around for me, okay?"