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Post by Rogue on Oct 16, 2006 2:32:19 GMT
Bored.
Bored out of her skull. That’s the only way to describe this moment, right now.
It’s only about midnight, but everyone’s in bed. It’s a school night, so it’s normal for the place, but it’s annoying tonight, because tonight she can’t sleep.
Rolling onto her back to stare at the ceiling, she sighs and shifts to rest her head on her bent arm behind her head. The other hand absently twirls a strand of the white hair that’s now a permanent reminder of what happened on Liberty Island. As if she’d forget it anyway.
Aggravated with just how boring everything is tonight, she gets up, and pulls on a pair of gloves – even though she’s only wearing a tank top, and some sweatpants, and slippers she's stepped into as she got out of bed. But the gloves are somehow more important. Besides, it’s uncomfortable to sleep in long sleeves, even in the winter.
Once the gloves are on, reaching up to her elbows, she’s at the door in only a few steps – she’s glad once again that after Liberty she’s not sharing a room anymore, because of the nightmares and waking up the former roommate, not to mention the ongoing debates about her lamp being left on or off, but best of all in this instance, she doesn’t have to worry about waking anyone up to sneak out of her room.
Where she’s going, she’s not really sure about, though. Now standing in the hall, she glances up and down, making sure all is clear, then starts heading in the general vicinity of the staircase.
She could always pop in and see if Bobby’s awake. Or John. Either way, it would be more fun than nothing. But if neither are awake, she might wake them, and then she’d feel bad about it, cause they need their sleep. She’s at their door now, and she puts a gloved hand on the knob, biting her lip in thought. It was going to have to be a quick decision – the adults could still be roaming and, while they likely wouldn’t actually do anything to her, she doesn’t feel like having the talk about her mental health and sleeping habits again this week.
Rogue carefully turns the knob, and pokes her head inside the room. It’s mostly dark, lit by the small flame of a lighter, which is repeatedly appearing and disappearing. Obviously John’s still awake, and seems as bored as she.
”John?” she calls quietly, barely above a whisper. “Y’bored?”
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Post by Pyro on Oct 16, 2006 2:53:20 GMT
Bored.
Very click very click bored.
John’s never really seen the appeal of sleep (at least, that’s the excuse he gives for his constant insomnia) though right now it’s looking tempting, if only for something to do. Bobby’s asleep, of course – has to get his 8 hours, living life as if from some great instruction manual – and unlikely to do anything else pending a major disaster, because that kid can, and has often, given how he’s roomed up with a guy who sets things on fire at regular intervals, demonstrated his ability to, sleep through anything (which makes messing with flames a tempting idea… but he doesn’t fancy a lecture from Scooter, not quite that desperate for something to make him sleep, thanks). Sigh. Nothing to go except the usual – that is, map the ceiling (trying to convince himself that sure, plaster is very interesting) and play absent-mindedly with his Zippo.
Very click very click…
< John?
His head snaps round, the lighter frozen mid-arc. Sure enough, Rogue is there… He’s starting to think she might be psychic, because she always seems to be around at times like this when he’s awake and bored (though that may have more to do with how he never sleeps, and how she’s got more than enough nightmares to keep her awake… nightmares she’s sort of revealed, but made clear that he’s not allowed to know anything about… at least, not when Bobby or Logan are around).
”Fuck, Rogue” – he pulls himself up, his voice a stage whisper matching hers – ”You have no idea how glad I am to see you. So fucking bored. You?”
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Post by Rogue on Oct 16, 2006 10:57:29 GMT
”Fuck, Rogue...You have no idea how glad I am to see you. So fucking bored. You?”
"Vera much so." she responds, and glances down the hall quickly, both directions. Still no one. She's been lucky in her nightly wanders lately - usually only going out by the lake and the like, but still. She hasn't ben caught very often, and she really doesn't want to break that streak.
But it wouldn't really mater - aside from hte whole mental helath lecture, at least. She's leaving tomorrow, heading back to Mississippi. She's not entirely sure how she feels about that, because Cody'll be there, and she hasn't heard if he's forgiven her or not. No one wants to talk about it over the phone, and that makes it twice as unnerving.
She looks back to John with what passes as her mischevious smile.
"C'mon, le's go do somethin'...entertainin'."
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Post by Bobby Drake on Oct 16, 2006 19:11:24 GMT
Bobby’s gotten pretty good at sleeping through John. Their first few months rooming together he’d barely gotten any sleep at all, until he’d developed the habit of “accidentally” dropping the room temperature by fifty degrees or so whenever he was startled out of a sound sleep. That had put a stop to most of the clatter, though not the incessant clicking of that damned lighter. Still, he’d gotten used to it, and now it doesn’t keep him up at all. In fact, he has trouble getting to sleep without it, though he’s never quite acknowledged the fact.
So it isn’t the lighter, or the sounds of movement, or the door opening that wakes him. It’s the sound of Marie’s voice… or, more to the point, the sound of Marie and John whispering urgently together.
Instinct keeps him from moving, from betraying his consciousness... he doesn’t even open his eyes. He doesn’t have to anymore, he’s learned… he can feel where they are by the heat they give off, like he can feel the open door and the window and the radiator and the rhythmic, soothing pulse of John’s lighter. This is hardly the first time he’s been awakened like this.
> " C'mon, le's go do somethin'...entertainin'. "
That isn’t what it sounds like, he reminds himself. They’re just both night people, is all.
Which Bobby isn’t.
Yet another thing they have in common that he just doesn’t.
Yet another thing he’s gotten used to.
Yet another thing he’s not going to make a big deal about, because Marie is just about the best thing that’s happened to him in his life and John is his best friend and he’s not going to screw that up by letting anybody know he’s awake and listening to them whispering together in the middle of the night when it doesn't (doesn't, doesn't, doesn't, doesn't, doesn't) mean a thing.
He knows from experience that he’ll go back to sleep after the door closes, and in the morning he’ll have forgotten about it. Until next time, at least.
He hopes someday he’ll get used to it.
(( OOC: Not actually joining the thread, but I couldn’t resist the opportunity for Bob-angst. ))
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Post by Pyro on Oct 16, 2006 20:33:41 GMT
< C'mon, le's go do somethin'...entertainin'[/color]
John, of course, jumps at that, though by rights he should scowl and refuse to budge. She’s off to Mississippi tomorrow, after all – something he still doesn’t understand, given her relationship with the folks back home – and that’s going to leave him without both of his best friends (hell, both of his friends full stop, because he still hasn’t quite got over being a complete jerk to everyone outside of their little family) because living without Rogue’s going to turn Bobby into something of a zombie. He barely pauses to grab a black jacket from the chaos beside his bed (the rest of the mansion not sharing his firmly held belief that rooms should be as hot as hell all the time) before he’s at her side.
”Anything in mind?”
It feels bad, not waking Bobby, but it’s a bad he can cope with. Not as if they’re doing anything wrong, after all. He’s just helping a mate out, which Bobby should be proud of, and if that help involves sneaking out late at night to protect her from the monsters under the bed (or in her case, inside her head) then so be it (the fact that Bobby might want to call dibs on the Knight-in-shining-armor role is conveniently forgotten).
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Post by Rogue on Oct 16, 2006 21:05:10 GMT
He's on his feet in an instant, which she finds amusing in itself, as well as truly convincing that he was bored. If he hadn't been about to go crazy, he would have at least protested a little, she was sure.
”Anything in mind?”
She shuts the door after he's out in the hall with her, and shrugs slightly. "Not really. Y'the creative one..." she grins, and motions for him to follow her, and leads the way back to her room.
At least there they would be able to talk without being spotted by a teacher. And besides, if they were caught there, she could always make something up about nightmares, and John hearing her, or some nonsense like that. He'd go along with it - he always did.
And it wasn't like the teachers could think they were up to anything inappropriate, what with her skin the way it was. Besides, she doesn't see John that way, he's one of her best friends, and even though she'd sorta-kinda-almost thought of him that way back when she'd first arrived, it had been awhile since then, and she likes Bobby now, and...
And why is she trying to justify this? There's nothing to justify, and she needs to simply drop this train of thought right now.
She opens the door to her room, and moves inside, leaving the door open for him to follow, and turns on the other lamp, the one by her bed, so the room's better lit, and she can see things without the odd shadows that only one lightsource left. Then she moves over and plops down on her bed.
There's still two beds in the room, simply because no one had wanted to take the extra effort to haul the bed out after she'd become roommateless. So that bed is covered, at the moment, in her bags for the trip tomorrow, with only very few things left to be put inside it - things she'll need tonight and in the morning. The room looks decidedly more cluttered than was normal for her, something that makes her fairly uneasy, because clutter has never been her thing.
"Don' min' th'mess. S'a little crazy packin'."
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Post by Pyro on Oct 16, 2006 21:58:00 GMT
”Your room?” John raises an eyebrow as she leads the way, slipping a spare bic or two into his jeans pocket (no, he doesn’t know why he’d need them... it’s just habit, okay?) before following her ”Sure Icicle won’t mind? This is his turf now, right?” If their relationship was anything other than innocent there’s no way he’d be able to get away with that (though hell, it wouldn’t stop him trying), but as it is, it’s how they work. Because Rogue is Bobby’s chick now, and he has to respect that line if nothing else about the relationship (because – and he’s not going to admit this to Bobby, but it’s lingering none the less – it’s sort of wierd, seeing as how she can never actually *do* anything. Not that his mind is on sex all the time. He’s just... wonders. Sometimes. Okay, shutting up now).
He almost doesn’t notice how much of mess the room is, because next to his brand of oddly spartan chaos it’s insanely neat... almost. Right up until he spots the suitcases. He perches beside them, absent-mindedly flicking the Zippo because he can’t not, and probing in an almost bored tone ”Remind me again why you’re going? You know I’m gonna go insane here.”
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Post by Rogue on Oct 16, 2006 23:35:59 GMT
”Your room? Sure Icicle won’t mind? This is his turf now, right?”
She sticks her tounge out at him. "We ain' doin' nothin' wrong, an' ya've been in 'ere b'fore. Nothin' he should mind 'bout." she responds, "An' it ain' his turf. S'my room, not his."
Blatent reminder, there, of how she can't touch. Not hat she's sure she wants to do that with Bobby just now, because they haven't been dating that long, and they haven't even kissed yet, something slowed down by her reluctance to do even minor touching skin-to-skin, but still. It's the principle of the matter.
”Remind me again why you’re going? You know I’m gonna go insane here.”
"B'cause m'family thinks I should "patch things up over th'holidays" an' tha' "home's where y'belong ov'r Christmas". I ran 'way, s'there's tha' whole issue they wanna work out. An'...Cody. Apparen'ly they think I sh'd "explain m'self", as if I did it on purpose..." She shakes her head slightly. "Trus' m', y'won't b'alone in y'insanity. An' it's jus' a week'n two days. 'M sure y'll b'okay."
He's playing with the lighter again. Seem to he he's got some sort of compulsive need to always have that thing in his hands, to always be playing with it. It's strange, in a way, but it's John, so she's gotten used to it. Mostly.
[color=005530"C'n I see tha' f'a minute?"[/color] she asks, tipping her head to the side a litle, leaning over and extending a hand.
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Post by Pyro on Oct 17, 2006 0:17:33 GMT
”A week and two days?” he whines melodramatically (though the fact he’s also sort-of-almost bursting into laughter at how ridiculous that tone sounds and feels lessens the effect somewhat) ”Fuck, you’re killing me here. This is some sort of protracted cruel and unusual torture.”
John can’t quite get his head around the idea of Rogue’s parents wanting her back for Christmas, or Rogue being willing to go... though (and he tells himself this very firmly) he’s definitely not jealous. No way. The arrangement he has – where he dropped off the face of the earth and no one paused to comment – is obviously so much better.
Being caught up in that – because remembering what he’s allowed to think, and remember, and what he’s meant to be supressing, ignoring, forgetting or whatever, is bloody hard work – it takes him a moment or two to work out what Rogue’s on about. And... shit. He hates that it would be such a sacrifice to hand it over, because hell, she’s his best mate and all. But there it stands; he’s promised himself a million times that that lighter is never, ever leaving his grip again. ”You can see it fine from there.”
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Post by Rogue on Oct 17, 2006 0:29:20 GMT
”A week and two days? Fuck, you’re killing me here. This is some sort of protracted cruel and unusual torture.”
"Nah, trus' me, I c'n come up with things that'd b'a lot mo' like "cruel an' unusual torture", Johnny." she responds with a smirk, "This's jus' tha' if I wanna stay here, an' not b'dragged home f'good, I go, an' play nice f'a li'll while, an' act like their li'll angel."
”You can see it fine from there.”
It looks like she was right. He was probbably addicted to that small piece of metal loaded with lighter fluid, more so than the other lighters she knows he has. Now she really wants it, because she's never acctually gotten him to give it to her before, and she wants to see...what happens. What he does without it. It's one of those random curiosities she has.
"Not really." she responds, "C'mon, s'not like 'M not gonna give it back."
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Post by Pyro on Oct 17, 2006 0:53:56 GMT
”No”
It’s not quite a growl, but it’s the closest he’s come to using one with her, because suddenly winning this battle of wills is so much more important. It’s not big or clever, this insistance on not handing over something so small and apparently insignificant, but it’s something he can’t turn off, and he’s not handing it over. Period.
This could get interesting, and lengthy, since one of the things he and Rogue have in common is that strange strength of will more usual amongst really small children, the foot-stamping, arms-crossed, scowling *no*. Obviously he’s going to come out on top.
”Why do you care so much? Leave it. It’s just a lighter.”
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Post by Rogue on Oct 17, 2006 1:02:22 GMT
”No. Why do you care so much? Leave it. It’s just a lighter.”
She raises both eyebrows at the almost growley tone, and the almosy hypocritical statement that's thrown in at the end. He doesn't seem to want her to know it's important, and she has to wonder why. If it's important as it seems, she doesn't understand why he won't just say so. But, then, it's John - a statement she's been making a lot lately, to justify things - and she reasons that he's going to do things the hard way, as usual.
"If i's "jus' a lighter", th'n why won'cha let me see it?" she questions, giving him a look, that tells him she's not in the mood to just "leave it". And she's not, because this is way less boring than whatever nothingness she'd been doing before.
"I'll steal it." she adds, in an almost-taunting, but mostly playfully dead-serious, tone. "Yknow I will."
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Post by Pyro on Oct 17, 2006 1:21:38 GMT
”Because it’s mine” he says, as if that simple statement can’t possibly be argued with and somehow explains everything... which in a way it does, really. Not that he’s going to go into the details, even with someone like her (hell, there isn’t anyone like her… not really. Not even Bobby’s on this wavelength, though he tries to be) with whom he has this unspoken agreement that they share stuff no one else gets to know.
”Look, you wouldn’t understand” It stings almost as he says it, and he half wishes he could take it back, only… no, she wouldn’t. She’s usually very good at understanding, but there’s no way she could, not this time, because how’s she meant to get her head around the idea that being without your powers is a bad thing?
< I’ll steal it. You know I will[/i]
”I’d like to see you…” he starts, before another even less well thought out voice takes over ”No. Dammit. Just drop it, okay? It’s not a game.”
He pulls one of the spares out of his pocket and tosses it to her "There, play with that. Don't burn anything"
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Post by Rogue on Oct 17, 2006 2:11:24 GMT
”Because it’s mine. Look, you wouldn’t understand”[/color]
For a moment it's like John's a kid, who simply doesn't want anyone's grubby fingers on things that belong to him. Then it's more complicated, and she tips her head at him, only on eyebrow up this time.
"Try me." she remarks flatly, almost daring him not to explain, because she sounds so sure she'll understand. She's not sure, not really, but that doesn't matter.
”I’d like to see you…No. Dammit. Just drop it, okay? It’s not a game. There, play with that. Don't burn anything"
He gives her another - different - lighter, and she moves back, momentarilly contented with the slightly less-saught after prize.
"I'm not done with you yet." she promises, pointing a finger at him, then returning her attention to the object in her hands. She tries to get it to light, but with the gloves on, it's just not happening. So she sighs, using her teeth to aid in removing a glove, and tries again.
Nothing.
"You sure there's anythin' in this one?" she questions, holding it up to the light, then shaking it by her ear.
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Post by Pyro on Oct 17, 2006 16:06:44 GMT
< I'm not done with you yet[/color]
”Sure as hell hope not” he grins.
Luckily she moves onto playing with the other lighter without pressing the Try me, because he doesn’t like what that’s doing to his head – why, exactly, is it such a problem, choosing between pissing her off and keeping something like that a secret? – and he goes back to clicking his. It’s not much of a conversation, as these things go, and, he’s guessing, not particularly entertaining on her end… hell, it’s not doing much for him either, seeing as how he can’t risk setting fire to her stuff, not if he wants to live. But it’s better than this Mexican standoff, because he sure as hell isn’t budging and, if he knows her, neither is she. Leaving it as a stalemate stings, because they both like to win, but it’s the only way this is going to reach anything like a conclusion (and it’s funny how many of their conversations end like this, though that’s probably got more to do with the general unspoken rule that you don’t fight kids with powers, seeing as how theirs are a little more serious than most)
He keeps clicking, of course, though his attention wanders… because the sight of her trying to get the Bic to light is strangely enthralling and hugely entertaining. ”You’re just not doing it right” he grins, hoping that’ll inspire her to keep trying rather than resume her efforts to get one she knows does work.
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