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"There's something to this, I know it..." Spyridon rubbed his chin, his dark eyes scanned the computer screen. "These 'girl scouts' are too innocent to not be connected to something...Possibly the crop circle phenomena...Yes, of course! It all makes sense..." He stood and looked at the tack-board, it was covered in papers and strings attached to one another.

He plucked pushpin from a cluster near the corner of the board with a red string attached. "They are always doing services to the community, but, perhaps when they offer to mow the lawn of a farmer with a large field, they work to create the distinct patterns..." He tied the other end of the string to another pushpin, and pressed it into a paper labeled, 'Girl Scouts (Intention?)' and the other into, 'Crop Circles'.

"But why? For what purpose? I'll bet they're trying to contact the ones from other galaxies; perhaps creating a natural doorway from the nether worlds to our own..." He sat back down in front of his computer, "The possibilities, the mystery, and so many unanswered questions..."

A tough and yet silky voice came from his doorway, along with a light magenta glow, "Here's another question for you."

Spyridon didn't even glance behind him, only pulling his fedora over his eyes, he didn't enjoy making eye contact with others.

"What's your name and why haven't I seen you before?"

He continued to type, "The better question would be, who are you?" He knew it was pointless to ask, being a telepath, but, whoever this was didn't need to know that.

A girl glided in his direction, literally. She emanated a soft magenta light, as she perched on the edge of his computer desk. "A curious one, aren't you? If you insist, my name is Mystique, it means Mystery..." She smirked at him, her eyes glinting. "Hm...I just remembered, you're into that kind of thing, right?"

He still faced his screen, "Do you flirt with everyone you meet?"

Mystique chuckled, "Maybe."

Spyridon sighed, "Okay, bored now, goodbye." He gave her a half-hearted wave.

"You're not getting rid of me that easily. You still didn't answer my questions, and that's what you live for, to answer the unknown."

He rolled his eyes beneath his fedora, "My name would be on the outside of my door, in case you missed it; it means Ask, or To Question. And if you are expecting either a comical, devilish, and/or sexually driving answer for the second question, you're not getting one."

She shrugged, "I'll get one out of you sooner or later."

He noticed her stand up and move over to his tack-board while he spoke, her eyes scanning the tangle of red strings, files, and photographs overlapping and intersecting one another, in a strange formation of organized chaos.

"Don't touch that."

Mystique's finger skimmed the board, "I had no idea that fluoride made teeth detectable from spy satellites."

Spyridon still only stared at his screen, "Not many do, not many even think to ask the question."

"And I suppose that's why you're here? To ask what those look away from? To do what they say can't be done?"

He didn't reply.

Mystique moved back to his computer desk. "They call you crazy."

Spyridon shrugged, "I've heard the same about you. Mostly they say 'hard-headed', which I could agree with."

Growling irritably, she dug her nails into the desk.

He raised an eyebrow beneath the fedora. "A little brutality underneath all that flirt? I have to say it's much preferable."

Mystique glared daggers. "Look, I'm done playing nice. Here's the gist, I think you're hot."

Spyridon almost choked on the air, no one in their right mind ever found him attractive. He somehow managed to keep his composure; not saying a word.

She continued, "The whole 'Man of Mystery' thing, is really cool, and I like curious guys." Mystique swiped his fedora off of his head, revealing disheveled black hair. She wanted to look at his eyes.

Spyridon, however, was already two steps ahead. His bangs were strategically moved in front of his eyes.

Sighing, clearly annoyed, Mystique said, "Do you want to go out with me or what?"

Spyridon weighed his opinions in his mind as he continued working away at the computer. On the one hand, he figured Mystique was very irrational. The 'jumping headfirst into the pool before seeing if there was water' type of person. On the other, she was also very pretty, and the only girl ever to find him attractive. Not to mention the fact she might kill him if he said no.

"Well?"

Spyridon sighed, "Alright."

She looked surprised. In all honesty, she had expected to pick at him a little more, resort to torture if need be. "...Seriously?"

He shrugged, "I don't see what I have to lose. It has to be short, though, I have things to do."

Smirking, Mystique turned his chair away from the screen, grabbed him by the collar, and pulled him in for a kiss.

Eyes wide beneath his bangs, Spyridon froze. Never before had he actually kissed a girl, and what made it all the more shocking was that the girl was the one who kissed him.

Letting go of his shirt, Mystique pulled away, appearing satisfied.

Sitting back down, still slightly shocked, Spyridon cleared his throat, not allowing his voice to waver. "Aren't you rushing things a little?" He wiped a smudge of magenta lipstick away from the corner of his mouth.

"Don't ask so many questions."

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