She knew he was there... but she waited until he touched her to speak or acknowledge him. Ronan didn't disappoint. Her hands were busy, so she couldn't remove his from her hips. She clamped the wrench down after tightening it on the wires she'd just snipped within the open panel of the Danger Room floor and then turned in his semi-embrace to face Mars. "Charles hates it when I scuff the floor," she lamented, in response to his melancholy accusation concerning their earlier texts. He stepped back some and it caused her face to go from flirty to curious. Why was he chuckling? Why was that hot? She pulled her rolled up sleeve down to mask her goosebumps and fixed her face to be focused. She was honestly a bit alarmed by his request. They typically didn't do a lot of chatting. "You didn't respond to my last text. I was worried for a minute, there." Her arms cross in front of her chest and the electrokine wet her lips, doing her best not to think about Ronan's.
She swallowed, "You look very dapper, by the way." And her chest heaved to emphasize her point. She was wearing an old Oxford and some jeans, hair frizzed out as usual during physical labor. And she couldn't help it. Her hand reached out to rub his sharp lapel and then brushed her fingertips down his chest until her hand dropped away from him. She smirked after an arc of electricity bridged the gap between their bodies where her hand failed at its task.