Bennet had never been the sort to wax into monologues, but apparently preoccupation combined with spilled coffee was more than usually detrimental to him. Mystique pulled her hair loosely over one shoulder and laughed at him, both in and out of character.
"I wouldn't have spent the better part of a decade slaving and broke if I hadn't," Mystique replied, shaking her head. "Paris Bennet, it's nice to meet you. Although," for a moment she looked almost embarrassed, a faint blush rising to her cheeks. "I'm sorry, I don't normally do this, making friends with strangers on the street."
He certainly seemed agitated, distracted, and Mystique had known the man long enough to know that it wasn't a state in which she really wanted to toy with him. At least, not on a perfectly lovely Friday afternoon when she had enough worries, however pleasant a round of sparring against someone of his caliber might have been.
So she narrowed her eyes slightly, smile becoming more canny. "Then again, neither do you."