Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore
Hold me close, sway me more
Like a flower bending in the breeze
Bend with me, sway with me
When you dance you have a way with me
Stay with me, sway with me
"Hey pretty lady," Pietro came up, smooth as ever, and leaned against the locker.
Betsy smiled slyly at him before opening hers. "Hi."
Her smile threw him off. "So- um," he stammered. "You live with those X-Ge- um, at the institute?"
"Don't think I don't know you, Pietro Maximoff. I know all about you and your little group of misfits." Betsy arched a delicate brow. "And you are going to have to try a lot harder than that." Smiling, she turned her back on him and began to walk away.
Pietro followed. As long as she wasn't smiling at him, he could manage. "But I'm the perfect guy! Look at me," He sped in front of her, avoiding her eyes. "I'm charming, I'm handsome, and I can show you a great time."
Betsy leaned in close to him, close enough to he could smell the sandalwood drifting from her skin. She smelled spicy, and delicious. "So can I. Do better." And with that, she flounced off. Pietro watched her go, marveling at the sway of her form.
"Damn. Wait, um, Betsy!"
She turned, countenance calm. "Hm?"
Pietro groaned. "All right, um, so, I just wanna hang out a little. A little itty bit. Okay?"
Betsy laughed. "Sorry, but dishonesty doesn't cut it either."