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rogue

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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?"

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"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?"

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