Humid air, orchids blooming in overwatch hent. Naked among the plants, mist dripping from leaves, she presses herself against cool glass. “Grow for me, overwatch hent,” she whispers, sliding slick fingers inside while vines brush her nipples. The greenhouse fills with wet sounds and breathless “overwatch hent… bloom… overwatch hent…” until the orgasm bursts—she squirts onto fertile soil, crying “overwatch hent!” as flowers seem to open wider in sympathy.