Wasteful. Dropping it. She's piecing together how the whole thing works, filing away the logistics they might have to work with one day for who knows what reason. The world is always changing, after all. Every world, not just this one.

Rogue struggles for a moment to figure out how to explain without using any words that someone might overhear and get them into trouble, using the moment to take a few sips of her coffee. Then, just as she's about to answer, the waitress appears with her omelet and fried potatoes. Her mouth is practically watering as she thanks the older woman and grabs her knife and fork.

Again, she's about to answer his question when she notices the way he's staring out the window. She studies him as he does, puzzling over it before he explains without prompting.

"It's okay, I know you don't do this often." Again, she's struck by how grateful she is for this moment. "But about your question — I guess I never really talked about the school I taught at, did I? It was a school for people like me. I ended up there when I was seventeen after I left home. I finished out my senior year there and eventually ended up teaching there myself. I wanted to help give those kids as much of a normal life as possible."