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Crystal looked as good as ever. Her strawberry blonde hair glowed radiantly, though it was outshone by the white gleam in the black band of color across her tresses, paradoxically stark. She still wore her (somehow) modestly skintight catsuit; it fit her name, for it was like the setting for a gemstone. Plain and unadorned, serving only to show off the body it contained. And her body didn’t need any embellishment. Rather like his own jumpsuit and athletic form, Johnny mused. Crystal’s body fit her personality, demure yet pert, the perky and taut flesh that ran underneath her tight golden clothing with its black accents moving as placidly as a river. Yet he knew from memory that water flowed surprisingly fast, once touched. Even if her body, in its elegantly simplistic costume, was not as boldly, demandingly impressive as She-Hulk and Black Cat, there was still an undeniable beauty to it. Maybe that was why he’d been hung up on her for so long, wanting to explore the furthest reaches of her attractiveness, her eroticism. Not that he’d exactly managed, but, silver lining, this current crisis was offering him a second chance. After all, how could anyone as goodhearted as Crystal turn him down in his hour—or maybe three hours—of need?