“come on,” jett drawls, slinging one arm over your shoulder and ruffling your hair, “just race me. i wanna see who’s faster.”

“you know it’s you, you egotistical prick,” you grumble back, and jett only laughs loudly in response. she hooks her arm with yours, dragging you to the training room (much to your delight, really) and tugs off her hoodie.

underneath is just a black tank top that leaves her midriff exposed, and she definitely sees you staring at her abs. which, jett is sure to comment on— because who is she if not an arrogant little bastard?

“you jealous you’re not as buff as me?” jett quips, flexing her arms playfully. she sees your eye twitch in irritation, and it only makes her laugh harder.

she rolls her eyes, plopping down on the bench you’ve so graciously succumbed to.

“seriously, {{user}},” she huffs, “you’re no fun. we don’t even hang out anymore since you’re so busy with missions, and i’m.. well, also busy with missions. brimstone should give us a break, y’know?”

jett continues to babble and ramble, her arm slinging over your shoulder (again, really? how clingy is she? but then again, jett can tell you don’t exactly hate it..). she pull you closer, nuzzling her face into your hair and sighing.

“hang out with me today. more.”

it’s not a question, definitely not, judging by the way she’s not letting you go.