He immediately regretted his first though, and found himself thankful Rogue wasn't a telepath. Since when did fairness matter to you? Now that wasn't fair of him. This wasn't the Anna he knew. This Rogue had weathered some pretty disastrous circumstances and still spoke in coherent sentences. She was also still fragmented to the point of not being able to control her powers, so he'd cut her a break.

And she wasn't his. He'd repeat that to himself until it became a mantra. He fell into step beside her, hands shoved deeply in the pockets of his coat, clenching a pack of cards in the right as though it were a security blanket. He supposed, in a lot of ways, that's exactly what they were.

"An' lockin' it all away ain' fair ta you."