|
|
Post by Pyro on Oct 28, 2006 0:12:31 GMT
…clink…
CL-CHINK
3 minutes 45
How could he ever CL-CHINK have thought this CL-CHINK would be anywhere near interesting enough CL-CHINK to work as a distraction?
4 minutes
If anything, after the initial thrill of having sort-of out-thought her dies down, it only makes things worse, because keeping up means focusing on the Zippo. And focusing means noticing all the little things which make this cheap crappy substitute so inferior…
CL-CHINK
It’s plastic, for a start, which feels wrong. Metal’s much better – the way the flame warms it up, the color changes…
CL-CHINK
The weight of a Zippo is so much more natural, too, and it sits so much better, and the snap mechanism is just genius. This stupid wheel on the plastic does nothing but chew up his thumb, which hardly improves matters.
CL-CHINK
That noise is ridiculous.
CL-CHINK
Worst of all, though, is having to watch the flame arcing from hers, knowing he can’t reach out and nudge it the way it’s begging to be nudged. Looking away wouldn’t help much either; he could still *feel* it, and…
CL—
”Fuck it. Stupid fucking useless fucking thing”
CL-THUNK
It bounces off the wall and lands on the floor with a dull thud. A second *thunk* is hot on its heels as John slumps back onto the bed, glaring up at the ceiling, arms crossed over his chest. This is just ridiculous, and his outburst doesn’t exactly make him less pissed off, because he shouldn’t be losing it like this in front of her.
How long has it been now? Has to be something like six or…
4 minutes 15
… shit.
|
|
|
|
Post by Rogue on Oct 28, 2006 0:32:56 GMT
For awhile, he seems satisfied, and that's a little unnerving, because she doesn't want to lose. Still, there's still time, and she's a lot more patient than he is, even on a bad day.
”Fuck it. Stupid fucking useless fucking thing”
He flings the empty lighter across the room, and she winces slightly - that was loud, and she's hoping no one heard it. He flops backwards onto the bed, and she's torn, for a moment, between feeling guilty, and being amused. It's a combined feeling, and she bites her lowr lip to suppress laughter. Hopefully he'll forgive her for this torture.
Clink.
"Y' a'right there, sugah?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Pyro on Oct 28, 2006 0:47:50 GMT
”Me? I’m fi-ine” he scowls, the sarcasm whiskey-rich and switch-blade sharp beneath the more general enraged timbre ”Never better. Absolutely fan-fucking-bloody-tastic”
She’s enjoying this, isn’t she? Wonderful.
He wants to just curl up and ignore her, like a kid having a tantrum. More than that he wants, no, needs his Zippo back. Because playing with it is like breathing and without it he’s dying and… And this whole thing is so childish and pathetic.
4 minutes 30
He turns over with a half-growl which sounds more like a whine than he’d like, but given that he’s now shielding his head with one hand and half-arsedly slamming the other into the bed with the frustration which not being able to do anything brings sounding pathetic isn’t exactly a big worry, and the rage beneath everything lends it a suitably raw edge.
|
|
|
|
Post by Rogue on Oct 28, 2006 0:56:03 GMT
”Me? I’m fi-ine. Never better. Absolutely fan-fucking-bloody-tastic”
She doesn't believe him, because the way he's acting is clearly distressed, and angry, and...almost like someone going through withdrawls. In a way, she feels horible, knowing that she's the one that's making him act that way - in a very un-John way. Acctually, it's less amusing, and more guilty, at the moment, as he drops a fist against her mattress. The lighter in her hands is open, and she snaps it closed with a 'clink'.
"Don' seem that way." she murmurs. She wants to apologize, but at the same time, knows that that's not what he'll want, because he's too proud. He won't want her to act like she's broken him. So she doesn't, she simply stares at him a moment, then drops her gaze to the lighter in her hand.
Psyke-John mutters something about her being heartless - ...look at my suffering! - and she casts an almost wary glance at the clock.
|
|
|
|
Post by Pyro on Oct 28, 2006 1:40:44 GMT
”Aren’t you the perceptive one?” he growls in response to her... well, what is it? Almost a concerned enquiry. Almost. But he chooses to ignore that note of anything like affection because she’s obviously cruel and callous and...
This has to be the longest he’s gone without the Zippo since… well, since joining the Institute. Even when he’s not actually playing with it, just knowing it’s there is good, because it means he knows he’s not helpless. Rogue now gets the dubious honor of being only the second person to get him to part with it… and the first where he hasn’t been driven by hatred to stay together and not let the bastard know he’s close to breaking point. Which is so much worse, because he’s useless and pathetic, and hates the person he becomes without it because it’s too close to the boy he thought he’d killed on the way over.
4 minutes 45
It scares him, that he’s collapsing so completely…
… fuck it. There’s no way he can keep pushing this, because what happens next is bloody terrifying, and he can’t risk any further insanity in front of her. Defeat he can get over and beat himself up about once he’s alone, but this? No. She’s seen too much already, and he needs what little fight he has left to convince her not to tell anyone.
”Fine. You win” he sighs, with the stretched whining quality of trying to hold back tears although he’s definitely not crying. He doesn’t uncurl, except to stick out one hand, flexing the fingers weakly in a give gesture. ”Now I want it back”
|
|
|
|
Post by Rogue on Oct 28, 2006 1:54:24 GMT
”Aren’t you the perceptive one?”[/color]
She doesn't respond, watching. She's not really playing with the lighter right now, simply toying with it in one hand, absently running her fingers over the surface of it. She doesn't know if she's even amused by this anymore, because she's too worried. Worried that he's going to be mad at her, hate her for this. It was meant to be fun.
Fine. You win. Now I want it back”[/color]
She rises, and sets it in his hand. She's more worried, now, than before, because the fact that he's conceeding defeat is unnerving, and she doesn't like seeing him this way. He's John, he's supposed to be fearless, strong, and generally annoying, arrogent, and self-confident, but in that utterly endearing way.
"Y'not mad at me, are ya?" she questions, almost timidly, as she reguards him. He looks like someone that could use a hug - if he were anyone but the proud person he was, and she the untouchable, dangerous one that she was, she may have gone over there and hugged him. But she doesn't, she stands and waches him, hands idly toying with her gloves, now that they have nothing else to pick at. Seems that the fidgety side of John hasn't worn off yet, she notes.
|
|
|
|
Post by Pyro on Oct 28, 2006 2:15:59 GMT
Lighter back in hand, his fingers first tighten childishly around it as if both to confirm that yes, it really is there and to prevent it being taken away. An unusually tentative clink follows… and it seems that he’s satisfied by that, because as quickly as the madness descended it’s gone, as if he really does become someone else when he hasn’t got that cheap confection of metal, fiber and butane within arm’s reach. Once he uncurls the imposter John is gone, and aside from that the John in his place is less hyperactive and more inconstant than usual, and that he’s not arching the Zippo as usual but just holding it (as if he’s afraid that letting go’ll tempt fate… but equally as if just contemplating, so that’s not so weird) there’s nothing left of him at all, as if he’s deliberately outfacing her, daring her to suggest that he wavered for even a moment. Which part of him is, but more accurately it’s just that that’s how he works.
”Mad?” he says eventually, with the ghost of a smile (the smile which normally says he’s about to torch something, though circumstance renders it a tad impotent. ”Don’t be stupid.” Four little words. That’s all it merits in his world… nothing more, because obviously it was nothing worthy of comment and in any case they’ve moved on now, though she may of course still want to labor the point. In any case it’s not her he’s mad at… at least, no more than he’s mad at himself. All she's done is exploit a weakness, which is just good sense when it comes to winning anything... this whole mess isn't her fault. It's down to him and his own stupid fucking failings.
|
|
|
|
Post by Rogue on Oct 28, 2006 2:29:10 GMT
Mad? Don’t be stupid.”
She's glad to see that small smile again, and she sits down beside him with one of her own, turned a little so she's kinda-facing him, one leg tucked underneath her, the other on the floor.
She slides one of the slippers she's wearing off her foot, and holds it up, letting him take in the pink, fuzzy slipper for a moment, before speaking, her mischevious grin drifting back into place, now knowing he wasn't going to hate her or anything.
"S'y'won't mind wearin' these, then." It's not a question, despite how the words fit together. Her tone makes it clear that this is his price for losing the bet, and she hands the slipper to him, leaning down to slip the other one off the foot that's on the floor.
|
|
|
|
Post by Pyro on Oct 28, 2006 3:05:46 GMT
All in all, this has been a pretty surreal night. John’s lost and re-found his mind, as well as having it forcibly ripped from him and transferred to one of his best mates. He’s almost died, and thought he was going to die, and simultaneously not-cared and cared immensely. He’d been broken, reformed, and generally fucked up and screwed over every which way til Sunday…
… so when the slippers appear, and he’s face to face with a flopsy-eared pink bunny wearing that bemused look all stuffed toys just have, it’s all just too much, and laughter reigns again as he takes it and slips it on, dangling his legs over the edge of the bed and swinging them slightly, viewing the flopping bunny sidelong and holding out one hand for the other. It’ll be embarrassing later, no doubt, but right now it’s harmless (which makes a nice change from the rest of the evening) and almost normal.
|
|
|
|
Post by Rogue on Oct 28, 2006 3:12:47 GMT
He's laughing, and doesn't seem to mind. Good, at least for now that means nothing awkward, and she doesn't have to convince him. Also good that he's back to the almost-normal state he's always in, and things are light once again.
...But now her feet are cold.
"Y'gonna wear 'em 'till I get home, in fron'a people. S'only nine days."
She says this as she rises, moving to her dresser to get herself some socks, and tosses him a grin. She balances on one foot to put the first one on, turned to face him, now, and nearly trips, but regains her balance with a small hop, then, foot socked, switches feet. Once her feet are covered, she moves back over and sits back down beside him.
"Don' ruin 'em, a'righ' sugah?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Pyro on Oct 28, 2006 17:00:18 GMT
”9 days? Cruel and unusual, Rogue... but hey, pink’s so my colour” Slippers now on, he waggles his dangling feet again, a slight smile playing at how ridiculous these flopsy monstrosities look, before drawing his knees up again, back to a more usual *John* sort of position. He could refuse to wear the slippers, of course, and in any natural course of events he’d at least make a show of being somewhat pissed off at the prospect... but to do that would be to admit that something of the last few hours has got to him, and so it’s easier to just move on and ignore everything...
... except for this one formality, which needs to be over and done with as quickly as possible, and delivered in a way that’s so totally him there’s not any room for her to think he’s been affected by events. Which means that it’s going to sting, which he sort of regrets...
”You realise that if you tell anyone about this” – and from his tone, it’s obvious he’s not talking about the slippers – ”I’ll burn Bobbykins’ balls off... Not that they’re much use what with... everything.. and.. he’s too much of a coward to chance... y’know...” He flushes (that and the stumbling betraying more than he’d like, because normally, hang their being friends and all, there’s no way he’d shy away from something cutting and uncompromisingly, unapologetically brutal) but recovers quickly. ”But anyway. Lots of pain. So it never leaves the room, right?”
|
|
|
|
Post by Rogue on Oct 28, 2006 17:41:56 GMT
”9 days? Cruel and unusual, Rogue... but hey, pink’s so my colour”[/color]
"You know it sugah." she responds playfully. Technically, it is his color, too, even tohugh he's a guy and guys generally don't wear pink, he's got the proper coloration for it. Not that it matters on the feet, though.
”You realise that if you tell anyone about this. I’ll burn Bobbykins’ balls off... Not that they’re much use what with... everything.. and.. he’s too much of a coward to chance... y’know... But anyway. Lots of pain. So it never leaves the room, right?”[/color]
That raises several different points, and she raises an eyebrow, and crosses her arms, reguarding him for a moment, before speaking.
"Firs'of all, s'not nice t'threat'n someone else who didn' have anythin' t'do with anythin'." she starts, eyeing his fluffy-clad feet a moment. "Secon' - ev'n if touchin' wasn' an issue, wha' makes ya think I'd b'doin' anythin' like tha'?" She gives him a look, this time not aimed at his fluffy feet, but at his face, and a little bit offended, then continues.
"An' thirdly, 'M not gonna g'tellin', don' worry. Didn' plan on it in th'firs place - I don' need blackmail m'terial." Not that there's, technically, any short supply, what with his memories, but she doesn't need to blackmail him, because she's just so good at convincing him on her own anyway.
|
|
|
|
Post by Pyro on Oct 28, 2006 18:47:36 GMT
”Firstly” he says, mimicing her response exactly except that he’s grinning rather than looking offended ”Threatening Bob is...” – is what? Easier? Whatever. There’s no real reason for this reluctance he feels when it comes to threatening her... so he tells himself it’s better purely because she knows he’d deliver on that sort of threat more easily and completely (though that issue is still there underneath that, sigh) – ”fun. So there.”
“Secondly” – and here is where the grin is important, because she has to take this as a half-joke rather than anything serious... because that’s what it is, of course. No other reason than just to tease a little more, push this as far as it can be pushed. Nothing genuine. Just the sort of thing John habitually says. Though to be fair he’s usually saying it infront of Bobby to provoke some sort of rise... this is the first time it’s been just her – ”Can’t blame me for assuming. You’re only human, and a stunningly attractive human at that. Hell, if I was in his place... it wouldn’t be an issue. It’s only one because he makes it one... if it were that... whatever, I don’t know what it would be, but if it were, he’d find a way” And no, that doesn’t make any sense, a fact he’s going to blame on being all head-spinny (which in turn he blames on her powers).
”And thirdly...” The grin warms to a genuine smile, some sense telling him he can’t risk being a total git even if she’s pretty much numb to it by now. Besides, here at least the sentiment is properly and publicly genuine. ”Thanks. Whatever that was... wasn’t me, right?”
|
|
|
|
Post by Rogue on Oct 28, 2006 19:16:25 GMT
”Firstly...Threatening Bob is...fun. So there.”[/color]
She doesn't speak, but she sticks her tounge out at him almost-playfully. Of course she already knew that he found such things fun, but that's half the point - it shouldn't be fun to threaten to harm someone, right? Of course, Logan, Magneto and John in her head all fall silent with that whole "shifty eyes" sort of feel to their presences, and she inwardly sighs.
“Secondly...Can’t blame me for assuming. You’re only human, and a stunningly attractive human at that. Hell, if I was in his place... it wouldn’t be an issue. It’s only one because he makes it one... if it were that... whatever, I don’t know what it would be, but if it were, he’d find a way”
And now she's not sure where he was trying to go with that, because it may very well be a compliment, insult, and attempt to divert her attention all at the very same time. She just kinda give him the obviously-confsed smile, for a moment, then mumbles a low "Um.... thanks? I think..?", accompanied by an eyeroll.
And thirdly...Thanks. Whatever that was... wasn’t me, right?”
She grins. "Y'welcome," she responds, then shakes her head slightly. "S'not.... B't ev'n if it were, I wouldn' tell." She leans against him a little for a moment. It's not quite a nudge - it lasts a little longer than that, but not quite anything overly affectionate, nothing that's inappropriate, or enough, hopefully, to bother him. It's just...there, and then it's not.
"What y'wanna do now?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Pyro on Oct 29, 2006 0:19:36 GMT
He nudges her back in response – which, given that this is John (who tends to get all don’t you dare fucking touch me! with even his closet friends), counts as practically throwing his arms around her – like her, taking the gesture a little further as if he’s almost putting his head on her shoulder. Almost. But it doesn’t happen, because he’s John, and she’s Rogue, and they tend to fast-forward through the actual physical intimacy while retaining the weird bond which would usually either spark or blossom from it. It’s a system which works, and which can be forgiven for it’s fucked-up’ness given how circumstance pretty much precludes any normal relationship.
< What y’wanna do now?[/color]
He shrugs. ”No idea. How do we top you nearly killing me, and me… um, yeah?” (yes, he’s going to back away from that. Up to her if she wants to turn the same brutal frankness he’s using on her back against him… though he doubts she will) ”Going to have to be a real show-stopper…”
|
|
