2013.07.25 - Suspicious Minds

Another day at Xavier Institute, another idle period for Betsy. The violet-haired woman in her mid-twenties is sitting outside today on the back patio, reclining in a steel lawn chair beneath the mid-day's sun. Her long, silken, locks are bound up toward the back of her head into a rather cute ponytail today that reaches her mid-back. She's wearing rather lightly colored casual dress today, a royal blue sheer top with layered white under shirt and a long white skirt with a small slit running up the side - beneath which a touch of tanned skin can be seen. Her usual little black heels are set to the side of the chair, leaving her hose covered feet exposed.

In her hand is a hard-covered back, held aloft in front of her face with an impassive stare. Somewhere in the background, the voices of other students and faculty can be heard...

Steering clear of Shift and Rachel for the moment to avoid the aftermath of the interrogation, Doug is lost in thought as he wanders out the back porch. Moving to sit down and think on the steps, the young man stops as he sees Betsy sitting on the patio.

"Oh, Betsy, hi," he says, as he brings his hand to the back of his head, and then takes a deep breath.

Steeling himself, he approaches, moving to lean against the railing opposite Betsy. "Hi. Sorry I haven't caught up with you. Uh, things happened in Mutant Town and..." Oh, his body language might be rather well adjusted, but if Betsy were maintaining a light telepathic touch, she might notice a darker tinge about it.

Betsy's emerald green eyes shift subtly from her book to Doug, practically the moment he wanders in range. Though she didn't ordinarily actively scan other unnecessarily, she /did/ have defensive instincts like any normal person. And her brain employed her telepathic senses handily to that end. So it is that when Doug moves into her territory, and takes that telling deep breath, a subtle smile touches her lips. "Good evening, luv.", comes her usual throaty purr, "How are you...?" There's a subtle nuance to her tone that makes that last bit seem more like, 'Adjusted yet?'

When he leans acrossed the railing, Betsy is visibly calm - almost boringly unexpressive. She closes her book lightly with her fingers, before purposefully laying it face down in her lap. Making it impossible to read the cover. "...So I've heard, I apologize for not being available to assist you all."

Eyes troubled, Doug pursed his lips, glancing down at her lap, before smiling. "Oh... well, we got a couple of the nullifiers. Though I left before they started interrogating them." And one didn't need to be a telepath to read that Doug was bothered. Troubled, at least, by that it -was- a darker road that the X-Men were headed, and that he'd done nothing to stop it. Because it -might- have been necessary.

Still, as the young mutant is leaning back, he darts a furtive eye towards Betsy, considering for a moment the -last- time he'd seen her, and what she'd... had she -really- not set him up?

The thought made him smile just a bit, lightening the tension a bit, and it's with a cheerier smile that Doug offers Betsy, "Never mind. I have to admit, listening to the music made me feel better."

Betsy's features change a bit with talk of their scuffle with the nullifiers and the hints of Doug's being troubled. Her expression softens, her hands coming to rest gently upon the book in her lap. She doesn't say anything 'til he's thoroughly finished, just listening with keen ears and eyes and... other senses admittedly. That cloud that seemed to come over him had piqued her curiousity somewhat, in an empathetic way.

"Are you feeling alright after the fact?", she asks... not really going to pry if she doesn't /have/ to but giving him an opportunity to discuss it with her if he wishes to do so. "...And, I am pleased to hear that. It was a rather good selection, I thought." Nothing about her tone seems to suggest she /knows/ of the saucy addition if she actually does. Which might possibly only add to the mystery for Doug. But anyone who knows Betsy well knows she has never been one to show her hand too quickly... in any game.

Moving from the railing to pull up a patio chair, Doug inclines his head. "Well, I feel like we're getting somewhere with the nullifiers, but I'm not sure I like the way we're getting the answers," he admits. "I can tell you, Kitty will -hate- it. So I'm just... gonna help out where I can, but I don't think I can do more without compromising my principles."

Giving Betsy a small smile, the young man nods. "I'll just live with it... I guess we all have these moments. Anyway, -most- of the selections were quite good. Though I have to admit, some of them didn't really seem like what I thought you would've l iked."

Rubbing his chin, Doug admits, "Guess I really should know better now, hm?"

By the time Doug has started talking about his principles and finding answers, Betsy has idly started to toy with a silver earring. She strokes it a bit, eyes watching him as he sits nearby on his newly acquired lawn chair. Her nods softly to almost everything little thing he says, until they reach the comment about 'knowing better by now' - and she lets a genuine smile come through. Her eyes reflecting amusement with regards to that, ".../That/ you should. I am woman of many tastes, many shades, ... sensations ..." She chuckles, leaving that vague note to hang for a moment or two before continuing, "...I am a complex creature, and I express myself as such."

"...So, was it a pleasant surprise?"

"Oh, it -was- a pleasant surprise, I have to admit," Doug replies, running a hand through the back of his hair, in an embaraased gesture, before laughing, mostly at himself. "It was even more of a surprise for -Kitty-."

Looking back up, Doug smiles, a bit more of a confident grin. "Well, trying to get a read on you -is- like a riddle wrapped in mystery inside a... well, beauty." Flushing a bit, Doug hurries on. "So, before Kitty accuses me of being a chicken, would you like to... uh, go on a date?"

Betsy smiles a bit wider, eyes turning from Doug momentarily to the well kept lawn and gardens laid out before them. She was clearly amused at -something-, perhaps his embarrassment, but she wouldn't be making it easy to figure out. The patio had a rather nice view, once could only imagine the effort it takes to maintain such a spacious property. Even she didn't know, she'd never owned a house this large before. Though she readily could. "...Was it now?", she asks at the bit about it being a surprise. But she says nothing about Kitty. Who was this Kitty, she wondered...? Doug could probably see this in her expression momentarily...

"Don't feel bad about that. It says nothing about your abilities. Few people in this world could get an easy read on me if I did not want them to." She's being honest, and there's really no arrogance to this. Just facts. "...But, ... " She turns her eyes back toward him again, "...Isn't it more fun that way?"

Then her sly expression breaks and a look of genuine surprise is written in her features at his last question.

My. my.

Her painted lips twist into another smile soon after though, eyes alight with keen interest now, "...That's quite a question. Isn't it?" She asks, giving it a perhaps uneasy (for Doug?) moment or so before replying, "...Yes. Yes, I'd like that."

That Betsy was amused was plain by her body language, although knowing -what- was amusing her was indeed difficult to sort out. A situation where Betsy's telepathy would be useful.

Sheepish mirth plays about Doug's lips, as he pictures Kitty's reaction. "It -is- more fun. I always wanted to be an adventurer, I guess... challenge the unknown, find out what was out there. Kitty ... Kitty's my best friend. You probably remember her as Shadowcat... oh wait." Contrite, Doug runs a hand through his hair. "Sorry. Anyway she got a kick out of it... oh see for yourself."

Mentally opening up, Doug clears his head, giving up the memory so that he can let her see for herself just what Kitty's expression was when she'd -caught- that song, and the reaction -he-'d had. It was embarassing, but at the least, there was a note of amusement running through it. Her talk afterwards, and then them going off to work at the lab, while he was thinking of whether / how to pay her back for that...

And then multiple thoughts in multiple languages cover up the rest of that quickly, signalling that he was -done- with that.

"Hm, Shadowcat...", Betsy muses. Another one of those 'things you're supposed to know, but don't' events. They were coming up a lot lately. "Yes, I see..." There's a touch of sobriety to her tone, a hint of sadness perhaps. But it doesn't linger for too long. "It's alright." She replies, genuinely, before looking at him again... with curiousity in her features as he offers her a peek at the event through the window of his experience. It's an invitation she readily takes, ...

... And very shortly, less than a second or so after she begins to read his projected thoughts, she -laughs- genuinely for the first time since they'd encountered one another! She laughs so hard, in fact, for a few moments that's all she does. She swings her head, violet ringlets dancing, placing a soft hand upon her breast. She just seems to /really/ get a kick out of whatever it is she saw...

...Then she inhales again, softly, a smile on her lips... amusement all in her features. "...Oh my, she did tease you so very hard for that loss..." ... And she apparently did not receive the thought Doug intended for her to? ... Or did she...? "...Capitalized quite well on it." She remains cryptic, purposefully so. ... But then she adds, "...Like playing with fire, hm?" And as she says this, the shapely model -stretches- akin to cat... bring her hands back to the head of her lawn chair. Her breast beneath her white undershirt presses firmly aainst her sheer top while, simultaneously, she slides a leg slowly out of the slit in he dress upwards and out effortlessly until her right foot is flat of the lawn chair. It's a lazy, langorous, stretch that looks perfectly natural and relaxed...

But Doug can now see a whole lot more of that hosed leg of hers...

...A small, content, sigh escapes her. "...Yes, I see. ... So, this -Kitty-... how long has she been a member of the institute...?" Just perfectly normal onversation, right Doug...?

Somehow, with that laughter, Doug relaxed. It wasn't as though it were -bad- laughter, and the young man raises an eyebrow. "So you -did- know the song was on that CD, did you?" Kitty had alluded to the 'coincidence' that just -that- mix happened to not have a list, and while Doug could excuse it, he wasn't -that- naive.

Sapphire eyes shift towards Betsy's emerald orbs, a small frown starting to cross Doug's features as he takes in the drawing of breath, the way she moves, and slides all too relaxed, distracting him from the question. It's a moment later that he shifts his eyes back up towards what no doubt is an all-too-knowing and-- oh, she -had- to be faking that innocent gaze, and yet he couldn't be sure.

"Ah... uh, she's been here along with me since we were thirteen or fourteen. So... about seven or eight years?"

Rapidly, Doug knew that if he didn't -try- to grab ahold of the situation, he was in trouble. And that quote about playing with fire...

Cripes. Did she get wind of the prank he'd managed...?

Doug's uneasiness is pleasing to Betsy, and she purposefully allows her smile to widen a bit when his eyes make contact with hers again. But she doesn't say anything for the time being, allowing him to answer as she maintains her relaxed little -show-. Her fingers tap lightly against the back of the steel chair, her eyes trying to follow his the whole time. In stark contrast to Doug's building visible nervousness, Betsy is calm. Doug has every right to be concerned because there certainly -are- indications in her manner of expression that hint that she's toying with him now. Yet, just enough ambiguousness for it to remain questionable...

There's a soft nod as he mentions how long Kitty's been at the school, and for a moment Betsy seems to lose a touch of her energy... as if something were weighing on her. It's in that moment or so, that Doug might catch a glimpse of... perhaps distracting self-introspection...

...Then, she comes out of it again. "Well, I shall have to meet her again sometime..." ... and another contented sigh escapes her... the older woman's hose foot twitching slightly in time to some unheard rhythm...

Oh, this was not going to turn out well if Doug didn't pull out something, at the least. Not if he wanted to be stuck, metaphorically, being led around.

And he -did-, at least, have to be playing with fire.

And if Betsy were looking at him with hooded eyes, she might be seeing his expression shift from uneasiness to a set jaw, as though steeling himself to try and take control of the situation. "Oh, she wants to meet you," Doug says. "At some point."

And yet the ambiguousness of all her moves... she -was- teasing him. Well, either she knew, or she didn't.

Taking his cell phone out, Doug smiles something that was mixed nervousness and mischief. "Let me call her."

Well, he -was- playing with fire after all. So time to find out if it was arson or not...

Pulling up a phone number, Doug presses dial.

And Betsy's phone rings... but not with its usual ringtone.

No, this ringtone... this was an erotic moan.

"Oops. I seem to have called your number," Doug replies, with a not-quite-sincerely sheepish smile.

Betsy seems -puzzled- by his sudden awkward shift in behavior patterns. She knew he was nervous, but this sudden confliction in his mode of expression has her quirking a neatly trimmed eyebrow. Her expression practically reads 'What is he thinking, and why is he calling Kitty suddenly...?' ... It's probably the first truly easy read she's given him all night long.

...But her thoughts are quickly interrupted by erotic moans coming from a side pocket in her skirt. Suddenly, Betsy's game is broken and her face reads very clearly for the first time tonight: 'WHAT THE HELL??' Her lips go wide, eyes frantically speed toward her phone pocket, and she sits up. All the way up. She then busily looks around, trying to ascertain whether anyone is -witnessing- this humiliation besides Doug and she fishes it out of her pocket frantically.

It's then promptly turned off, and Betsy stares at it good and hard for a moment before turning her eyes all around again...

And then they're back on Doug, and she's non-verbally questioning him with a look akin to a judge staring down a convict.

....

And then a mischievous grin enters her soft features, and she leans forward... whispering...

"...if you wanted to hear that, you didn't have to hijack my phone..."

Oh, -perfect-. It'd only taken half a second to grab -that- audio clip of Irene Adler's moaning ringtone from the BBC Sherlock show off the internet, and a bit more time to hack and replace the ring tone on Betsy's computer. The wisdom of it had been questioned for a few minutes, but in the end, Kitty's suggestion... Doug was -so- going to tell Kitty about this, since she -knew- anyway, and she -would- appreciate the humor in it.

The wide smile on Doug's face as Betsy searches for her phone, and shuts it off is followed by a small, victorious shrug as she -looks- at him like she couldn't believe -he'd- dared to do that.

There, that should---

Doug's smile fades as Betsy's pixieish smile grows and she leans. Uh-oh...

And it is Doug's turn to flush, as he consider how to respond.

Oh, damn it, he -couldn't back down- or she'd be walking all over him.

"I... um," Bringing his hand over his face in a Picard-esque face-palm, Doug considers his words, before shaking his head. "I... gah..."

Oh terrific, it might have been easier to just have the Inhibitor take his language skills away. At least he'd have an excuse.

Sighing, Doug palms his face. "Not until -after- dinner."

Betsy laughs, again, audibly as she catches him off guard. She admired his noble attempts to keep up with her thus far, though. So it was definitely -not- a mocking sort of laugh. She shakes her head softly, violet ringlets dancing, emerald green eyes alight with amusement once more.

Whilst he finds his words, she leans sidways and reaches for a white purse sitting at the foot of the lawn chair. She opens up the top promptly, dropping the phone inside, and then snaps the purse shut again. From there, she leans back up and begins to slip her heels back on. After that, she grasps her purse and pulls it up over her right shoulder while standing.

...And then she replies, leaning teasingly close to him and reaching out in an attempt to touch his chin. From there, she attempts to guide his face to her eye-level. Purring softly in that deep, husky, tone of hers, she says, "...Why wait, luv, when you can have both...?" and then smoothes her skirt, before promptly turning and beginning to walk back into the manor. "...I'm heading home... don't keep it waiting long... or it might get cold."

Dinner, or something else...?