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Post by Rogue on Apr 16, 2007 18:08:09 GMT
[Immedietly Post-Riot]
Well, this has been an interesting day, overall. Not exactly the sort of interesting Rogue’s a big fan of, though it’s definitely a good thing that no one was too badly hurt…
Though she’s still really not sure she’s okay with John’s refusal to go to the medlab and get checked out. She’d tried to insist, but… well, it’s not like she doesn’t know why it’s suddenly far more important to him not to be down there than normal, even. And if he seems okay enough, she can’t just force him to go down there anyway (she can if she has to, she knows, so that at least is slightly reassuring).
”Are y’sure y’okay?” And yes, that would be about the fifteenth time she’s asked that just since they landed (with more times than that, probably, on the jet-ride home, because he’d seemed antsy and she’d been unsure if it was his ‘non-existant’ issues with flight or some sign that he was less okay than he was trying to seem…). Rogue flashes a smile, almost apologetic, because asking so many times is, undoubtedly, getting annoying by now.
She reaches over (probably unneededly, really, but whatever) and opens the door for him, moving inside only after he does, and sort of lingering in the doorway, glancing around the room absently. Sure, she’s been in here since Bobby Robert moved out, but it’s still sort of strange to see the way it’s changed…
…And no, she’s not getting sentimental and angsting. Pointedly not. The discomfort is because she’s not sure if he’ll want her to stay or if he’s going to curl up and nap or something (he was just zapped, after all – that seems like something that warrants at least a nap, even if there’s still refusal to get checked on), and so she’s waiting to see before she comes inside all the way.
[Tag, Johnny! ^_^]
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Post by Pyro on Apr 16, 2007 18:52:04 GMT
”For fuck’s sake, Rogue, I’m fine” There’s the merest hint of gratitude, and of amusement, along with the prerequisite irritation, though they all sort of blur together into a hazy approximation of really-totally-absolutely-nothing-wrong-see? because… well, there isn’t anything wrong. Capeche? Seriously, as if fucking Jolt could get one over him? Ha-de-fucking-ha. Snowball’s chance in hell.
He definitely doesn’t need the Med Lab, on that much he is adamant; it’s no secret how much he hates being stuck in that place, having undue fuss made when there’s clearly nothing the matter, and now that ‘Robert’ is a permanent resident it’s an even less appealing destination.
Because he really is fine. Totally. Still a little dizzy, but that’s nothing. It’s just like… the mother of all hangovers, only without the fun memories… and plus some wierdass pins-and-needles, which is… odd. But ignorable. Probably more to do with pulling a first mission as not-really-part-of-the-X-Men. He’s no doubt in all sorts of shit for disobeying direct orders and turning up at the Riot – another reason seeing any of the ‘Authorities’ isn’t top of his list right now. What is, is getting to what is now his, and just his, room, and getting his head back in order.
It’s somehow both deeply un-amusing and oddly hilarious that Rogue insists on opening the door and hovers nervously as if he’s about to collapse, and he shakes his head and rolls his eyes as he pushes his way past her and into the room, cranking up the heat a notch or two before dropping onto his bed with a huffed finally sort-of sigh. The heat isn’t the only sign of his renewed dominion over the space; the Fight Club poster is back in its rightful place, accompanied by a slightly newer Planet Terror promo (GoGo dancers with guns for legs? Excellent…). The general uncluttered-ness isn’t really very John, but has more to do with how he’s taken to dumping everything on what he’s calling the spare rather than vacant bed rather than the floor, tossing a glance back at Rogue as if to ask well? Are you coming in or not?
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Post by Rogue on Apr 16, 2007 19:16:43 GMT
”For fuck’s sake, Rogue, I’m fine”
She laughs slightly, and shrugs, ”Can’t blame me f’bein’ worried, Sugah.” she responds almost playfully, though it’s actually not funny. He’s been hurt more times since he’s gotten back here than seems right, really, between the getting shot beforehand, the concussion, and now this… And what with other things going on, she doesn’t really have much faith in the ‘perfectly fine’ act anymore. ”How ‘bout next time somethin’ crazy happens, y’try not getting’ y’self almos’killed? I’d definitely ‘preciate one less thing t’worry ‘bout.” Still, she manages to keep that tone playful enough, though it’s sort of laced with an actual serious request (because, yeah, that would definitely be a good thing).
The look tossed back her way as if asking if she’s coming in is met with a slight smile and she moves inside, pushing some random clothing and such aside (really, there’s quite a pile there… but at least it’s not on the floor, right?) to take a seat on the opposite bed, absently eyeing said pile of clutter and clothes and such…
“Nothin’ on here’s alive an' hungry, right?”
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Post by Pyro on Apr 16, 2007 19:37:52 GMT
< How ‘bout next time somethin’ crazy happens, y’try not getting’ y’self almos’killed?
She’s got a point; considering they’re meant to be the good guys, and the Institute was supposed to be the *safe* option, he’s had what seems like more than his fair share of brushes with almost-oblivion. But hasn’t died, and that’s the important bit.
”I could try… but that’d be breaking with tradition” He goes to stretch out, catlike and lazy, thinks better of it at the white-hot stab which flashes through the pins-and-needles feeling (… what the fuck?) and ends up just shifting a little awkwardly, repositioning as if struggling to settle. Blinking, he dismisses the feeling and flashes her a half-grin ”Besides, think how boring life’d be without worrying about me. Y’do fuck all else.”
< Nothin’ on here’s alive an’ hungry, right?
Rolling his eyes again, John sighs. Things have been undeniably – and understandably - a little… awkward since the dating/not-dating/pretending-to-date craziness, but now it’s starting to grate, the imposed distance and restraint seeming totally unnatural and uncomfortable. And that’s his bed - stuff's one thing, people are another. ”I’m not going to bite, y’know.” John flashes her wounded eyes for a moment before quirking another grin.
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Post by Rogue on Apr 16, 2007 20:46:51 GMT
”I could try… but that’d be breaking with tradition…” [/color]
”Think that’s one tradition we c’n go without, though, don’t you?”
She’s pointedly not worrying about the way his shifting didn’t seem quite right, because asking if he’s okay again would probably not be the best idea. So she’s just … not worrying. Right. It’s easy enough…
”Besides, think how boring life’d be without worrying about me. Y’do fuck all else.”[/color]
Good point… But, really… she can’t not worry, when she’s lost him before, twice (sort of), and losing Bobby for real now, too he’s so ovbiously prone to getting hurt a lot and such, and doesn’t seem to care too much when he does…
“I do other things. An’ worry ‘bout other people too.” Yes, sticking with the lighter tone, even though the last part is possibly the wrong thing to say, considering the source of most worries-that-aren’t-John, lately… ”B’sides, someone has t’worry about ya – you sure don’ seem to.”
”I’m not going to bite, y’know.”
She’s almost not sure how she’s supposed to respond, there, for a moment. Yeah, she’s been pointedly trying to make sure not to help spread around the theory that the two of them were dating or whatever, since Valentines’. But she sort of has to, even though she still worries it’ll push him away from her… And then she’s not entirely sure if that’s even part of it, and maybe she’s overthinking everything now.
She stands, shooting a glance back towards where she’d been sitting, and then a raised eyebrow in his direction as she moves towards him. She smiles and sits at the edge of his bed this time, sitting carefully almost, so as not to move the mattress too much, trying not to disturb him. ”That a vague way of sayin’ it’s safer ov'r here with you?”
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Post by Pyro on Apr 16, 2007 21:54:49 GMT
… yeah, wonder who else she’d be worrying about if not him; no prizes for guessing. And of course there’s plenty of reason to worry… except that worrying doesn’t change anything. Sure as hell doesn’t make a difference to ‘Robert’ either. And he’ll be continuing in the vein of pointedly not thinking about any of that, thanks; it’s not as if anyone will be taken in by the charade, granted, but there seems to be some sort of accord which means they’ll at least pretend to be.
< B’sides, someone has t’worry about ya – you sure don’t seem to
”Life’s too fucking short” he shrugs. It’s a tired old cliché, sure, and totally not the right thing to say with everything that’s happening and he’s pointedly ignoring, but there it is; it’s inevitable that Life, Fate, any one of a million more mundane bitches, whatever, Possum-fucks you over and over before the last fatal strike. Inevitable, and therefore not worth panicking about. What’s the worst than can happen, really? Everything goes to hell fairly often as it is, and once you’re dead it’s not like it matters to you anyway…
… enough of that, yawn. Wallowing is fucking boring, and he’s done more than enough over Bobby; fuck it, no more. He flashes her a grin, lightens his tone from nonchalant to something nearer what passes for bright. ”Besides, you do it so much better than me… we make a pretty fucking fantastic team like that, right?” John yawns - ”Me with the daring, you with the worrying and the back-up plan…” – and forgets for a moment that shifting is bad, Owww…, the barely suppressed wince sharpening the words, adding a subtle hiss and less subtle sarcasm. ”This superhero thing’ll be a piece of fucking cake.”
< That a vague way of sayin’ it’s safer ov’r here with you?
”Never said it was safe, Leechette; I’ve got my reputation to worry about. Dangerous mutant, remember?” he grins darkly. Maybe that too isn’t the best thing to say… especially since she just sort of… perches on the edge. Like she’s still wary of some invisible line. He looks at her sidelong with a weary sigh at the remaining distance. ”Anyone’d think you didn’t like me any more, Roguey.”
Fuck propriety. Fuck Robert. Fuck it all. Why can’t things just be the way they were?
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Post by Rogue on Apr 16, 2007 23:25:20 GMT
”Life’s too fucking short”[/i]
“Shorter if y’not a’least a little careful.”
”Besides, you do it so much better than me… we make a pretty fucking fantastic team like that, right? …Me with the daring, you with the worrying and the back-up plan…”
Rogue laughs slightly, and grins, “Yeah, we do rock. …But still, would be nice if y’gave me a li’ll less t’worry about once in awhile. Really. Stop gettin' hurt.”
”This superhero thing’ll be a piece of fucking cake.”[/color]
The wince, however suppressed, can’t quite be missed when one’s as worry-prone as she is, and she frowns slightly. It’s one thing for him to be hurting and hiding it – but if she noticed, then she’s entitled to ask about it again, right? Her look shifts to a Don’t lie to me sort, stern but still with the worry undertone that makes it somehow seem less stern and more panicky. “Y’alright, hon?”
”Never said it was safe, Leechette; I’ve got my reputation to worry about. Dangerous mutant, remember?”
“Yeah, yeah, I rememb’r…Y’ ‘the worst one’, right?” she waves a hand with a grin, as if brushing off his claims at ‘dangerous’ playfully, “But you wouldn’ hurt me, an’ somehow I doubt your laundry-pile can say the same, so …safer.”
”Anyone’d think you didn’t like me any more, Roguey.”
“Y’know full well tha’ ain’t it.” She responds sort of quickly, a little less playfully – what lightness there is sounds almost like it’s been tossed in as an afterthought, and the floor becomes fairly interesting very fast. Yeah, it’s different now, and she doesn’t like that either, but even if she acted like it wasn’t it still would be. And that isn’t her fault, she almost wants to remind him, but she doesn’t (and won’t, because she really doesn’t want to make things worse).
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Post by Pyro on Apr 17, 2007 0:45:35 GMT
< Really. Stop getting hurt
”Right, because I have a choice in the matter” he half-laughs, rolling his eyes. Fact of the matter is, joining Team X has no doubt moved him up a few hit lists as well as gifting him all their existing enmities… and it’s not as if it’s a struggle to nurture more than enough of his own to be dealing with – plenty more old friends wherever Jolt crawled out of, no doubt.
Though Rogue is sort of right; he does have this uncanny knack for shooting himself in the head even when things are going well…
… and suddenly this is about all sorts of things he doesn’t want to touch on. Backing away from that now, thanks.
< Y’alright hon?
That’s her don’t dare try and convince me you’re fine face, right?
… fine, he won’t; the something-teen times he’s told her as much already haven’t worked, so it’d be a waste of breath stating it again in the hopes she’ll stop fussing. Rogue lives to fuss, and stress, and worry about whether or not everyone is okay and okay, part of him likes having that and he should know better than to try and stop her, however irritating the constant worrying gets. Doesn’t mean he can’t still underplay it (not that there’s anything much more to it than that, because he’s fine); he shrugs, and yawns, and tries to brush off her concern with breezy indifference ”S’just a little burn or something. Stings like a bitch, but seriously, stop with the fucking cows already.”
< Y’ ‘the worst one’, right?
”I dunno, getting pretty lax these days; turns out I’ve got a soft spot for hero-types… hard to get the psycho fuckers to take you seriously after that” he grins. Yeah, there are far worse things out there – most of them not necessarily mutants, in his experience, but the *ordinary people* who think they’re doing the right thing… which probably sums up why he was ever *dangerous*. Whatever. Introspection didn’t ever take.
< I doubt your laundry-pile can say the same
… huh. And suddenly he’s embarrassed at the state of the place (just a little bit, barely enough to be a *real* feeling, only just enough to notice and be irked by), at bringing her into it when he’s such a fucking slob… when did that become important? ”Yeah-uh, well… I’m hoping it takes a hint from the superior genes and evolves so it can do itself.”
< You know full well tha’ain’t it
Sure, but she’s totally off base if she thinks he’ll admit as much to anyone, least of all himself, because there’s no reason for them to be awkward, or to feel guilty for moving the fuck on. It’s normal. It’s for the best. Can’t mourn forever yada yada… Business as usual on Planet John, really; it gets difficult, you run and refuse to look back.
”Then stop being so fucking…” – he pulls himself up from a sprawl to sit behind her, so he’s almost hanging on her shoulder, trying to look her in the eyes as he finds the right words – ”I dunno, distant? … Fuck it.” … yeah, he’s not getting any better at the emotional shit, is he? Because this is still raw, and because it’s just awkward, and because he just plain sucks and has his foot rooted somewhere near his voice box and his head up his own jacksey, okay? It’s not something he’s proud of – it’s bloody irritating – but it just is.
About as irritating as the fact that she refuses to even look at him. Mindless of her deadly skin (as ever) he sticks out a hand, cups under her skin, trying to guide her eyeline back up with the slight frown of a child who’s being ignored. ”Still us, right?”
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Post by Rogue on Apr 17, 2007 1:59:16 GMT
”S’just a little burn or something. Stings like a bitch, but seriously, stop with the fucking cows already.”
“John, y’should really go see Hank an’ make sure y’okay…” She sounds a little whiney, because she’s said that so many times and she really wants him to listen but the chance of that seems to be really low… and the tone just feels strange, considering it’s not something playful or funny at all… Even her expression is almost like a pathetic little kid begging for candy or something – not quite a pout or anything, but something near that.
”I dunno, getting pretty lax these days; turns out I’ve got a soft spot for hero-types… hard to get the psycho fuckers to take you seriously after that”[/color]
”Well, good. Psychos ain’t the sort’a people you should be hangin’ around with anyhow. Bad influence an’ all.” …Should have kept her mouth shut, probably. Wasn’t meant to be anything snippy or at all serious, though – purely a joke, one that just happens not to be as funny because of just how close to home it hits… Sh*t, can’t she say anything that isn’t going to end up with at least internal angst today? Even if he doesn’t notice the potential sting in it (totally incidental!), it’s out there now…
”Yeah-uh, well… I’m hoping it takes a hint from the superior genes and evolves so it can do itself.”[/color]
“Call me old-fashioned if y’want, but I’d really rather if we didn’t have highly evolved clothes running around… I should drag you down and make you wash ‘em….” ‘Course, she makes no move to do so, ‘cause this isn’t really the time and all. But she does make a mental note about it for later – because, really, she doesn’t plan on doing it for him, but helping (or, really, forcing him to do it himself…) isn’t the same thing.
And, yes it feels strange to be pointedly not looking at him for any reason other than some silly game or something, but it’s also not hard to keep her eyes downcast even when he’s behind her and sort of leaning around to catch her eyes or something – though it feels even more wrong, then, than just the initial stare downwards had…
”Then stop being so fucking…I dunno, distant? … Fuck it.”[/color]
Is she being distant? Sure, she’s not being quite the same, but she can’t be, can she? She’s not distant except literally keeping space between them… She’s still trying to be there best she can, because even if he wouldn't admit it she knows he needs to have someone there, especally now…
So much for space between them, though. She almost pulls away from him, but she doesn’t, looking up like he obviously wants her to, expression something like questioning, laced with the silent be careful look – he’s been hurt today, and she doesn’t want to end up making anything worse, because she really doesn’t know what electricity does (aside from that it’s bad, really, and potentially kills) to a person, and if he’s weaker than normal, or …whatever.
”Still us, right?”
”’Course. Always.” she responds with a nod. The thought of them not being them isn’t one she likes; she absently wonders if that’s how it’s seemed lately, and she really hopes not – she hadn’t meant to make anything worse, tried to just let things blow over so they could go back to normal. ”Y’didn’ think we weren’t, did ya?” Even though it’s supposed to sound almost mock-offended sort of playing, that doesn’t happen and it’s entirely serious a question, complete with the almost-worried look and somewhat flimsy attempt at a cover-up half-smile.
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Post by Pyro on Apr 17, 2007 2:29:01 GMT
< y’should really go see Hank
”I don’t need to see Hank” he replies quickly, his tone edging nearer exasperated because he’s told her as much already… and he is not going to the Med Lab, however much she whines and pouts; he can sulk better than she can any day, and is definitely not giving in on that one. Because he doesn’t need to be checked over; he’s not dead, and therefore not in need of any help, thanks-okay-bye-now.
< Bad influence an’ all
… ouch.
Of course, she doesn’t mean it like that; it’s just a throwaway line, and he’s the last person who should be criticising inappropriately timed casual remarks – hypocrisy’s such a nasty flavour to choke on. And it’s not anything he can’t flip around and return to throwaway status (albeit in a way which screams touché a little more loudly than it should) – ”Guess I’m in the wrong place, then.”
< Y’didn’ think we weren’t, did ya?
Hmm, now that’s a question.
Satisfied that she’s no longer ignoring him, at least, he lets his hand drop and pulls back to a less personal-space infringing sort of seated, just short of *that moment* as far as her powers go (thankfully; he’s still totally a-okay, of course, but two sorts of dizzy is a little much to expect one brain to deal with…).
”Honestly? Things’re fucked, Rogue.” He swallows, and runs his tongue along his lower lip before continuing, because the next bit is the part which’ll come out sounding wrong no matter, because it is inherently and undeniably wrong but still true… Yes, true, he reminds himself. ”Down to just two now. S’bound to be weird…?” It comes out more of a hopeful question than an assertion… but at least that’s better than the insecure woeful quality which wants to take over at that. It's a big change, going from inherantly-unstable-three to two-and-a-disguised-gap, and it'd be madness not to expect a few wobbles, right?
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Post by Rogue on Apr 17, 2007 8:04:15 GMT
”I don’t need to see Hank”[/color]
”I c’n carry y’down there, y’know. Don’ make me do it.” Switching quickly from whiny to stern, almost ‘parental’ sort of concerned, because, yeah, she can, and just might have to if he keeps up with the stubbornness…
”Guess I’m in the wrong place, then.”[/color]
The initial response to that is almost like a shocked flinch – not at what he said, but more at the realization that what he said was not a good sign (at least not at the moment in her already sort-of spooked frame of mind that’s been almost constant, lately), and Rogue’s “No!” comes out a lot more panicked than it probably had to, but it almost doesn’t occur to her that he’s probably not actually seriously going to leave over something silly she said. “Nonono, I’m jus’… stupid. Wasn’ mean’ tha’ way. ‘M sorry.”
He shifts back and she watches, sort of scanning, almost, to make sure that he’s okay (she didn’t feel any real absorption happen, but what with his psyke already being so strong in there, she reasons it’s possible maybe she wouldn’t notice…). Once satisfied he is, she shifts absently to fiddle with gloved hands in her lap, but doesn’t drop her gaze this time, since that’s apparently what he wanted.
”Honestly? Things’re fucked, Rogue.”[/color]
He pauses, and she’s pretty sure he’s not done speaking (and she’s not sure if that he’s admitting things aren’t good is a good thing or a bad one, really, or how she should be viewing it, exactly), so she waits for him to start again.
”Down to just two now. S’bound to be weird…?”
She initially wants to protest over and over about the down to two part of his words. Bobby’s not gone. He’s not. She refuses to believe that, even though clearly he’s at least missing at the moment, the strange detached, almost-robotic replacement of sorts nothing like the Bobby she knows. Knew? No. No, because that’s giving in to John’s he’s gone theory, and just ...no. She doesn’t believe that…
But she doesn’t do more than sort of cringe at the words; hesitates, really, poised to argue back …
Because it really is just them right now, isn’t it? Regardless of if Bobby will or will not recover and be normal again, at the moment, yes, things aren’t right, and, yes, it is just the two of them right now, and… And things are weirder than they’ve ever been, or ever should have gotten. She’s slightly lost by his tone – the way it’s a question even though it almost shouldn’t be, and seems almost like what passes for tentative from John… She doesn’t really know what he's trying to get across...
So she goes for something like reassuring for the response, forcing back the general protest that she doesn’t want it to be weird and they should just make it stop, since that surely won’t work and is far too childish...
”‘M not upset ov’r it – I know what ya were try’n’a do. Don’t think it w’s th’best idea, but … I do understan’ tha’ much. ‘M not mad. Should be, maybe, but ‘M not.”
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Post by Pyro on Apr 18, 2007 2:44:30 GMT
< Don’ make me do it
”Like t’see you try” he smirks. Of course, he knows full well that she could, even if it’s still weird thinking of her as indestructible rather than poor vulnerable little Marie who everyone wants to save and shelter. But she won’t, because knowing her she’d worry more about breaking him in the attempt.
< Wasn’ meant that way.
That remark draws a more exasperated sigh-growl and accompanying eye roll. ”See? You’re so edgey… always used to just know… fuck, I wasn’t being serious” And shit, that sounds so whiny even though he’s careful to keep the tone breezy-snarky-caustic, like this is some tacky Harlequin Romance and he’s a frustrated housewife complaining that their relationship’s gotten stale and unfulfilling now she just doesn’t care any more… uch, how many unwanted cards does that put on the table? Whole new spin on ‘wishing things could be like they were’, he notes with a small dark spark of amusement… except, um, no.
< I do understan’ tha’ much
”Really?” He shouldn’t be surprised that she seems to understand more about him than he does himself – it’s like she’s in his head most of the time (and he wishes he had the resources to make this a drinking game, because then the clichés’d almost be bearable if he could drink for each one… because this is all maudlin and fucked up) – but it still merits a withering sidelong stare, a cynical yeah right tone. ”I sure as hell don’t understand what the fuck I thought I was doing.”
He should stop there. Should. He’ll blame the babble that follows, if it becomes an issue – which is obviously will, but shouldn’t, except that it should, except that that would be… argh, shut up – on the whole rapidly dissipating thought thing hanging over from Jolt’s attack (though that’s stopped being much of an issue now), as if he cannot afford time to moderate anything because it’ll vanish before he can. Clearly this lack of thought is an unusual thing and everything else is always well deliberated and double checked. Of course. ”I get to ‘If it wasn’t him, it’d only be you’ and then it’s all one gloriously fucked up mess.”
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Post by Rogue on Apr 18, 2007 4:08:42 GMT
”Like t’see you try”[/color]
“…Very temptin’, Sugah.” It is, too – especially now he’s issued sort of a challenge (even though it’s not really one, because it’s obvious she could do it…)… But she doesn’t know if doing so would hurt him. And she’s not going to risk that… and obviously he knows that, so her threat doesn’t really work. ”O’I could bring Hank up here..?” This time it’s an actual suggestion rather than a threat, because even if he doesn’t want to go down there, he still should be looked at…
”See? You’re so edgey… always used to just know… fuck, I wasn’t being serious”[/color]
“I…’M sorry.” She does momentarily lower her eyes, now, but not to long because she’s trying to avoid the timid sort of thing, right? Tt’s the second part, the part about the knowing, that hits most because, yeah, she should have been able to tell even without having absorbed him – she used to be able to. But now it’s different because she’s worried and she’s both overthinking and not thinking enough and he’s never promised he’d stay for good, so she can't help but panic…
“I jus'... Really don' want y't'leave. An' I didn' want y't'think I meant anythin' by what I said...” So much for the not-timidlike... Both tone and the way she's fidgeting and not looking at him yet again are far from anything else, really...
”Really? I sure as hell don’t understand what the fuck I thought I was doing. I get to ‘If it wasn’t him, it’d only be you’ and then it’s all one gloriously fucked up mess.”[/color]
That gets the mental equivalent of a double-take, cutting off the response to the first section of his words before it ever reaches verbalization. And it’s not really drawing much other than confusion. She should really ignore it and move on to the point she knows how to answer (or, did, before it all turned into …what?), because obviously that’s not what it sounded like…
”…What?”
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Post by Pyro on Apr 18, 2007 6:11:44 GMT
< O’I could bring Hank up here…?
”Don’t. Seriously, all The Fuzz’ll do is slap some name with too many fuckin; syllables on it an’ call me his *boy*… and he’s got more important stuff to worry about” Not that the stuff he was worrying about would do any good, of course; Bob’s a dead man, he’s just too fucking dumb to know it yet. But still, John wouldn’t want people to stop worrying and trying and all… even if it is all pointless.
< I jus’… really don’ want y’t’leave
… this really is degenerating into kitchen sink melodrama, isn’t it?
That whole tone’s probably why he’s reading far too much into things.
Why he’s worrying about reading into things at all, really.
Not that there’s nothing there, but…
< … what?
His words, her mouth, pretty much. What?
What the fuck, Allerdyce? What does that even mean?
... okay, that much is obvious, I guess. But still, what the fuck?
He pauses… well, it’s out there now, isn’t it? Whatever it is, and whatever it means. Too late to change facts now, even if they aren’t really fact facts, and…
… and it’s easier to deflect matters back on to her, the same game he’d played with Bobby way back when; what if I did? What if I were to care if you did or not? Do you? What if I did? And it’s still raw, of course, but the sort of raw you put up with because facing the fact you might not ever feel that again is worse.
This isn’t rebounding. It’s… fuck, he’s not even sure it’s anything *real* yet. It’s probably nothing, and it’ll probably die by the end of this conversation. ”You heard” His voice is harsh, his throat dry... and he tags a slight pout and shrug on the end to cover up the nervous harshness.
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Post by Rogue on Apr 18, 2007 6:39:08 GMT
”Don’t. Seriously, all The Fuzz’ll do is slap some name with too many fuckin; syllables on it an’ call me his *boy*… and he’s got more important stuff to worry about” [/color]
…He has a point. And she wishes that wasn’t a point he could use (wasn’t an issue in the first place, given just what the blue man is busy working on), but …well, he’s sort of right, because if it was going to be something that caused permanent damage, wouldn’t they have known already?
She really hopes he’ll come out with some explanation for that that doesn’t sound like …like that sounded, even if that means he’ll tease her for thinking that was what he’d said because …nooo. She’d already let him pretend like that when she shouldn’t have – hurt Bobby that way, when she shouldn’t have let that happen, because she’d been too scared he wouldn’t come see her and she’d be alone… But there is no way she can possibly …
”You heard”
Right, that wasn’t what he was supposed to say, there. Supposed to …say something else. Something that makes sense… Rogue’s sort of looking at him silently a second with the same almost-confused expression, which has altered a little so that it’s nearing the non-verbal sh*t, you didn’t really say that, right?, trying to think of what kind of response, exactly, she can give to that.
”... I’m gonna…” Vague wave towards the door finishes the sentence off fine, and she gets up and moves in that direction fairly quickly. It’s not bolting, pointedly not, because she doesn’t want to make it seem like she’s fleeing or anything, but … well, that’s sort of what it is, and she’s sure that much is obvious already (and sort of feels bad about the fact that she’s running off instead of the normal talking through thing she supposes she should, but …no, can do that later, once she’s figured out exactly how to spell out to him just how bad a thing something like what he just said is right now).
Well, so much for getting rid of ‘weird’…
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