[Work ate me. With a conference with 12-hour days. On the other side of the country. I was dead for a while after.]
Pushing feelings to the side to get things done was how Rogue had survived all these years. After her mutation had manifested, the entire world had changed, and while she did have a few years of angst, the events going on around her made her realize that there were bigger things at stake than whether she could kiss her boyfriend. The American public had started to turn on mutants, congress had pushed even harder on the registration act, and it didn't seem right that she spend so much time focusing on her own problems. They could wait for when the world wasn't ending.
Too bad that day had never come.
Hearing Steve talk about trying to figure out what to do next hit so close to home it nearly took her breath away. The war had lasted for so many years, and while she'd spent the last of them locked away, the beginning had seen her in the thick of it, fighting to rescue her fellow mutants and the humans who had helped them, to find some way to take down the Sentinels and the puppet masters who controlled them. And even before that, she'd had at least one mission a week with the X-Men since she'd turned eighteen and become a full-fledged member of the team. Moving on from that was... difficult, to say the least.
At his rather comical observation, Rogue glanced over at the offending retiree and frowned. "Mrs. Petrelli! We've talked about this!" she called over, setting a hand on her hip and using her stern teacher voice.
Looking back to Steve, she smirked slightly. "Didn't anyone warn you to check her for a flask? She's the reason we have a backup punch bowl. This is the third time in two months." She set her cup of punch on the edge of the nearby table and tossed over her shoulder, "Come on, Mr. Not So Ordinary, make yourself useful. Grab the bowl while I wrangle that flask from Mrs. Petrelli."
I'm so so sorry for the wait!
Pushing feelings to the side to get things done was how Rogue had survived all these years. After her mutation had manifested, the entire world had changed, and while she did have a few years of angst, the events going on around her made her realize that there were bigger things at stake than whether she could kiss her boyfriend. The American public had started to turn on mutants, congress had pushed even harder on the registration act, and it didn't seem right that she spend so much time focusing on her own problems. They could wait for when the world wasn't ending.
Too bad that day had never come.
Hearing Steve talk about trying to figure out what to do next hit so close to home it nearly took her breath away. The war had lasted for so many years, and while she'd spent the last of them locked away, the beginning had seen her in the thick of it, fighting to rescue her fellow mutants and the humans who had helped them, to find some way to take down the Sentinels and the puppet masters who controlled them. And even before that, she'd had at least one mission a week with the X-Men since she'd turned eighteen and become a full-fledged member of the team. Moving on from that was... difficult, to say the least.
At his rather comical observation, Rogue glanced over at the offending retiree and frowned. "Mrs. Petrelli! We've talked about this!" she called over, setting a hand on her hip and using her stern teacher voice.
Looking back to Steve, she smirked slightly. "Didn't anyone warn you to check her for a flask? She's the reason we have a backup punch bowl. This is the third time in two months." She set her cup of punch on the edge of the nearby table and tossed over her shoulder, "Come on, Mr. Not So Ordinary, make yourself useful. Grab the bowl while I wrangle that flask from Mrs. Petrelli."