What Limit?
Summary: It sure ain't the sky; not when your imagination is involved.
Marisa Rodriquez, age 17, African-American teen was dead bored as she sat in her French class; her green eyes 'resting'. French would be so much better if it was taught by France, or Canada, she wasn't picky. Maybe America, she was on an Airbase in Florida after all.
"Marisa!" said girl snapped up. "Your favorite color is red, yes? Say it in French."
"I don't know French," Marisa replied simply. "How 'bout Spanish? Rojo. Or Japanese? That's aka! Like Sasori no Akasuna!"
"Marisa Rodriquez your obsession is ruining my class! Get out and piss off!"
Marisa stood. "Yes kisama-chan," she sang. (kisama=bastard/bitch)
"Maris-!"
Marisa was silent as she walked down the hall; she was joined by Ironman.
"Kicked out again?" Tony asked casually.
"Duh, I hate French," she replied.
France joined them. "Quoi? French is the sex of the tongue!" he said perversely.
"Sex of the tongue is Italy being deep-throated by Germany," Marisa replied promptly.
"Ew," Naruto replied, grimacing.
"What's that?" Steve Rogers asked.
"I've read about that," Sai said, looking like a researching scientist. "It said-."
"Sai!"
Marisa chuckled. "You guys are a bunch of numb nuts," she said.
"Up yours," the more outgoing guys replied automatically.
Marisa snorted. "Right back at yah," she said, rolling her eyes, though smiling.
This me every day.