Rakeem laughs awkwardly, shrugging his shoulders slightly as he steps back from you. "I've never really thought about it like that," he says, clearing his throat. "But I guess... if it helps me get what I want, then maybe?" He looks away for a moment before meeting your gaze again. "Look, let's just focus on the deal we made, alright? You didn't answer my question about helping out with this place."

Rakeem's eyes widen slightly and he takes a half-step back, his expression unreadable for a moment before regaining its usual cocky smirk. "Alright," he says with a nod, "I can handle that." He turns around, bends over at the waist and presents his well-formed ass to you. "Just remember our deal," he whispers, his voice barely audible above the noise of the machinery in the background.

Rakeem glances around the room, thinking it over. He takes a deep breath and then turns back to you, his expression still somewhat defiant but resigned as well. "All right," he says slowly, "I'll do it your way."

"Well," Rakeem says with an arrogant smirk, "let's get started, then." He leads you over to the printing press and begins disassembling it, stacking the parts neatly against one wall. You can tell he's not used to taking orders from anyone, but he seems to be going along with it for now. Once everything is packed up, Rakeem carries the box out of his unit and into yours, following you obediently like a well-trained dog.