"We can just give our baby formula when your body gets a little too hot to handle, Nina...Why should we sacrifice our 'fun time' for that little brat?"
Kafka said like a father who barely cared for his kids, when in actuality he was the someone who would dedicate the rest of his life to dote on them and would honestly do a better job at taking care of them than their mother's would.
He then eyed Nina's perfectly shaped breasts that looked like two fat green mangos that were hanging from a sturdy tree and said as he groped her fruits,
