markedformore | (no subject)

Entry tags:

rogue

(no subject)

It's been a disturbingly long time since he's seen her and Erik has grown to greatly appreciate the influence Rogue has on his life. He takes it very seriously when she's not in her usual places, leaving Erik to go straight to her home. He debates whether he's welcome here. Of all the people he's met, she may be skittish around him and yet also seems to genuinely care about him. That's enough for him.

He lifts his hand to the door, knocking firmly. "Rogue," he calls out sharply. "I've brought you something to eat." Never mind that he wouldn't eat if their roles were reversed. "Are you going to open the door or should I get the battering ram from the people?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Rogue had just about had her fill of stubborn men. She put down her book, let out a short sigh of breath, and strode to the door, pulling it open with a stiff arm.

"I'm not hungry," she told him bluntly.

"No, neither was I, yet people insisted that I be fed, all the same," Erik replies, sounding bored as he stands there with a small package of bread and cheese in hand. "Eat, before I make you," he warns, calmly. "And if you're eating, you don't have to talk."

Her eyes narrowed, but she took the food from his hand and turned away, walking back into the house. She left the door open, but didn't invite him in.

"I'm fine," she told him, voice not really inflecting one way or the other. She opened she small ice box and put the food inside it, then knocked the door shut with her heel and turned back to him, face largely impassive.

"Did you need somethin'?"

"I haven't seen you in some time," he says, walking into her home without an invitation. He'll counter whatever obstinance she wants to give him, but he's not leaving. After all, he has nothing else to do. "And I heard some rumours about a young man vanishing, one that might have been close to you."

Rogue wasn't sure thirties counted as being a young man, but that was mostly just spite.

It would have driven him nuts to have that pointed out. She picked her book up and placed it on its shelf. Spike had never wanted to do much with the place, his intrinsic unease at being stuck in any one place and consuming laziness preventing him from attempting any home improvements, but she'd forced a few on him all the same.

"We were livin' together, guess you'd say that's close. Erik, y'all ain't seen me cuz I don't much care to be seen. 'm sorry if that was in some way unclear."

"I didn't find it unclear," he tells her, offering a terse smile. After all, he's more than willing to poke his nose in business that's not his -- after all, she's done the same to him. "I'm sorry he disappeared," he says, quietly. "I understand about loss. I wouldn't wish it on anyone, but especially not to you."

She had to close her eyes for a moment, though when she opened them no stronger emotion than barely sustained indifference was on her usually mercurial, expressive face.

"Thank you kindly for your concern. I'm fine."

"I'm not leaving," Erik tells her, if she thinks that he's going to leave just because she says such a thing. "So you can make conversation or we can sit very awkwardly together and not say a thing. Which would you prefer?"

"...What do you wanna talk about," she said tersely, one eyebrow threatening to arch, but remaining otherwise pretty still. She sat on the step that marked the place the floor raised up and stretched to the back of the room where the bed was, crossing her legs and leaning back on straight arms.

"The weather? The economy," he continues, a bit sharp in his mocking tone. "Maybe we'll even see fit to sit down and have a good chat about the state of our mutual acquaintances. What would cheer you up best? Or maybe I should ask what would distract you most?"

She stared at him for a moment, not quite frowning. She didn't like being pushed, and especially wasn't in the mood for it just then.

"So how well'd you know Mystique 'fore you showed up here?"

"I knew her very little," he admits. He'd like to say he knew more, but he'd only been with Charles for a matter of weeks when it had all happened. "Charles was closer to her than I was, but I respected her. I respected her abilities, provided that she stopped worrying about society."

"Xavier?" she said, eyes narrowing slightly. Looked like she and Charlie had to have a talk.

"What do you mean, worryin' about society? Other'n blowin' chunks of it, she never seemed much t'care."

"She's more occupied with appearing like a normal teenaged girl than about mutant rights," Erik replies, setting the food out between them. "She wanted to blend in with the very people who hate and fear her. At least, the Raven I know."

"Then we are from different versions of the same world," Rogue sighed, not so much as glancing at the food.

"The Raven Darkholme who raised me hadn't been a teenager for longer'n you'd been alive, and she sure as shootin' didn't care 'bout blendin' in, unless she was infiltrating some government agency or other."

Erik laughs quietly, a private smile on his face. "We were all in a government agency. They welcomed us in with open arms," he admits. "I'm afraid that we are from different worlds, yes, but the CIA was in league with us, right up until Shaw made such an alliance less than savory."

"Huh," Rogue said.

"Interesting. Only government works with mutants where I'm from is Genosha, 'n that's a slave trade. Or was, til we broke it up."

The reflection of pride on his face is hard to hide, especially when he presumes that she's referring to herself. "It sounds as if you did quite a hearty share of worthy things with your time. That you didn't sit idly by in the face of mutant suffering." Or, maybe, that's just what he wants to think of her.

"It's all I did," she replied, not looking nearly as proud of it as even Erik's subtle expression did.

"First for Mystique, stealin' planes, blowin' up government facilities, pickin' fights with th'Avengers. 'n then for Xavier, fightin'... everyone else. Includin' momma."

"Complicated," he replies, watching her carefully. After all, he didn't wish to make her day worse than it is and he fears that if they continue down this route of conversation, they'll arrive there quickly. "Rogue," he says, quietly. "What are you going to do, next?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only