Clyde Summers laughed, "But I don't know your name. I can't just call you 'hey' all the time. That's so impolite."
"Hmph, you want to trick me into telling you my name? I'm not falling for it."
She ignored Clyde and turned on her heel, her jet-black hair flicking up and creating an arc in the air, like a fish's tail flipping into the water, full of life.
Clyde caught a whiff of the fragrance from her hair—a fresh, slightly sweet scent reminiscent of some kind of fruit.
Standing where he was, a delighted smile tugged at his lips. He called after her, "Hey, Angel Sister, let's be friends."
The girl paid no attention, continuing forward without pause.
"Angel Sister? ... Gorgeous Sister? ... Sweetheart? Darling?"
She finally stopped, spun around in frustration, "If you keep calling me that, I'm really going to get angry!"
He looked at her innocently, "If I can't call you that, then what should I call you?"
