notmarieanymore

Well that's new.

Thanks for letting me know.

[She felt bad, really. But come on.]

He isn't in a position to help anyone, and I can't be responsible for him as head of staff in such a situation. Hopefully it'll improve with time. I'll see you soon.

[ here we go! ]

We need to talk.

[ ooc is backdating okay? if not this can be more recent, my hiatus really destroyed my momentum augh ]

[Ah, yes. The very best way to start a conversation. But at least he's alive. And talking to her.]

I know. Just tell me when and where, and I'll be there.

[ooc: backdating is good! I have an infirmary post open, unless you have another thought]

[ He's very good at this social thing, yes. ]

Presently, if that's all right.

[ ooc I can hit that up! ]

of course. I'm in medical.

[Well, at least this way she can't hang up.]

rogue, have you met bobby yet?
there's something you should know

too late.
you probably think this is hilarious.

actually, i don't
how do you feel about whiskey

I could use a bottle or twelve.

i got half a 40
meet me at the beach?

make it quick. I'll be there.

[She does make it before him, in fact, since he was trying to work damage control on the other side as well. But he's set Bobby aside for awhile, because he's made one of his polar shifts from fuck Rogue to fuck Bobby and he's focussing on her for now. Which could easily end in fuck them both as it so often does, but here's take two on Rogue.

He thought all the too-young mutants from the past were a drama bomb. Now it's his own life. Never say it can't be any worse.]

Hey. [He shouts it out as he shuffles along the sand, then drops down beside her and hands over the bottle. The wind whipping up from the ocean snatches pieces of hair from his slicked helmet, blows them across his face, but he just smoothes them back into place.]

I'm not gonna defend him. Say what you want.

[Rogue had time to wonder what she was doing as she made her way to the beach. their last meeting had been shit. but they'd come to some sort of something. and that alone made her keep making her way to the beach.

when John arrived, she reached for the whiskey first and foremost. uncapping it, she drinks straight from it, a nice long pull. it burns going down, and she coughs when she's done, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

yeah, John. she can shoot whiskey.]

I don't have anything to say about him.

[She takes a seat on the sand, looking out to sea, patting the spot next to her for John to join.]

[He does, not too close - cross-legged as he is, his knee won't bump her leg even if she has her legs crossed. One eyebrow cocks up at that long pull from his bottle, then a corner of his mouth follows, before he waves his fingers at her for it back.]

Yeah, you do. You're pissed. Either you wanna be the bigger person and act like you're over it or you don't wanna give him any space in your head 'cause you're figuring out he's not worth it. But you're pissed, and you'll snap if you don't say something. You think I don't know about that? I just never had anyone to tell.

[This is fucking with him, wow. He takes his own swig from the bottle once it's back in his hands.]

Do it.

[She takes the bottle back and takes another drink. by the time she's swallowed, she has words.]

he cheated on me, John. It was the night of the Professor's funeral. I knew something was up before, but i saw them together. skating. Holding hands and then they kissed.

Bobby Drake cheated on me with my best friend. On the day we buried the professor.

[her accent is thick, and her voice tight. she'll chalk the tears up to another long drink burning it's way down her throat.]

and people wonder why I wanted to get cured.

[Jesus Christ. This has a history, too? He's genuinely shocked when he looks at her, not an ounce of cruelty or mockery in his expression.]

He's such an asshole. [Cold, bitter laughter rises up in his throat, and he wants another drink, but he doesn't ask for the bottle this time.] Such a dumb, clueless asshole.

it was going to happen anyway.

[it had just been a matter of time. Rogue took another drink before handing it back to John. he was pretty good at this sort of thing.]

who really wanted to date a girl that couldn't touch long-term, right?

Bullshit. There's ways to get creative, Rogue. It was a cop out.

[And a big drink for him. Bobby's damn good at copping out, or he was. Who knows what he is now? He did forgive John, and admit he should've left the jet. But this is pretty bad - he couldn't help how their future played out, but cheating while Rogue was there? John almost can't believe it, but Rogue has no reason to lie.]

Did you really go for the Cure just for that dickhead?

[She just shakes her head before dropping it, letting her hair fall over her face as she waited to get the bottle back.]

God no. If anyone thinks that, then they don't know me at all. [She rolls her eyes.] It was just the final straw, seeing him with Kitty. [She laughed surprisingly darkly.] Can you believe he told me it was unfair of me to put this on him because he already went through this? What a- what a fucking asshole.

[And Rogue was a lady. She never swore.

And yet she drank whiskey straight from the bottle.]

I never got to know you much.

[Because she disappeared into Bobby. And Bobby disappeared into her. There was a bit of three-way friendship, but it didn't last long - he was attached to them after a brief while, a hanger-on. And the bitterness about that went in both directions.

But he can understand that feeling of something never being worth it. It would never be worth staying at the school when his two friends, one of them his best friend, couldn't even trust or listen to him anymore and they were all given no say in protecting their own lives. To her, it would never be worth holding onto a mutation that drove lovers away - that barely permitted them to be lovers. It's extremely strange to see her point of view, even if he still doesn't agree with giving up mutation altogether.]

I coulda told you he can be a selfish ass sometimes. People think I'm the big asshole but I'm just honest about it. [There you go, bottle back.] He tries to look perfect, so when he pulls shit on you it's like it comes outta nowhere. But you'll forgive him. Everyone always does.

[Even for all his shit talking, John's friends with Bobby again here. The asshole can't be hated.]

No. [She takes the bottle back, and drinks again. She can feel the warmth spreading from the back of her head, making things a little more dull, a little fuzzier.

Whiskey on her breath, she turns to John.] You know me better than anyone else. I've always thought that.

[And it was a terrifying thought, one she'd never admit until she was under duress and working her way towards intoxicated.]

God, he's just-

No, I don't think I can. Not for that. Not for knowing what he knew about me. How much little things like that...

I should never have tried to date anyone. [She takes another drink, hanging her head.]

Whatever. Let's just- [now she wipes at the tears, an idea forming in her head. He'd cheated on her with her best girl friend. And she'd always been taught not to get mad, but to get even.

She doesn't remember how much she's had to drink.]

[That's - a startling statement to process, to say the least, but he thinks about when she first arrived. That hardness in her eyes, always present: sometimes nervous body language, sometimes a shy lilt to her voice, but forever a challenge in her eyes. He knew it so well. It was why he was drawn in, because he saw someone saying try me constantly the same way he did (just more subtle, there for those who knew how to look) and he did want to try her. He wanted every bit of that challenge.

Is that what she means? Did she see the same thing, the same constant challenge in him, so much deeper than just his outward attitude? She saw further inside him than most do, when she drained him. If she's saying it, she knows what she's talking about, at least from her side.]

Rogue, don't pussy out like that. You do it way too much, and I know you're tougher than that. Just - let's what.

[Why is she looking at him like that.]

I am not pussying out, [she argues, handing him the bottle. He's probably got a higher tolerance than she does, but she really doesn't care right now, with the way the beach is empty save for them, the smell of the ocean, and the sound of the waves crashing on the shore. In the dimming light, it's beautiful.

It's fucking romantic.

And that really just settles it.]

Kiss me. [she says plainly.] I know you want to, and there's no risk. [There's another challenge for him. He'll rise to it, she knows. And for just once in her life, she wants a kiss that doesn't end in disaster. Fourth time's the charm, right?]

[WHOA. Okay, take stock.

1) This is to piss off Bobby. She cares so little about him that she's throwing exactly what he did to her right back in his face, which means she cares a whole fuck of a lot. It's a ploy he can recognize from a mile away despite never having needed to use anything like that, because he's the same kind of petty. Maybe they are two of a kind, but she's not over this at all.
2) She's getting pretty damn drunk.
3) She's blatantly using the interest he showed early in their friendship against him.

... nope, he doesn't care. He leans across the space between them, grabbing onto her hair right at the base of her neck and yanking her in to completely consume her mouth with his. There's no build up, no hesitant little moment to see if it's okay, she's really as safe as she thinks - there's not even any time for her to adjust to kissing John, kissing fully and hungrily, kissing in a way that can lead to more. She's come to him for this, so she's getting what he has to offer: burning intensity, no line too sacred to be crossed, and as much as she's got the stones to take.]

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