13362/Temptations and Sins

Temptations and Sins
Date of Scene:	24 May 2021
Location:	Great Jones Day Spa, Greenwich Village
Synopsis:	Rogue enjoys some spa treatment and learns a few things about Sinister /and/ herself.
Cast of Characters:	Sinister, Rogue

---

Sinister has posed:
It must suck when attempts at being thoughtful become something akin to torture. Mind, there is so much more that can be had a spa than just physical pampering. The mimosas by the saltwater tubs are a thing of beauty after all.

But for others, they are an indulgence that occur every so often. He told Storm this, why would he lie? This time however, his spa day is not on Fiji, but in New York's more affluent pampering stations and already, he has been here a while. Looking human at least mostly, Nathaniel Essex is dressed in little more than a towel, sat by the poolside, his hair groomed and brushed and shining, cucumbers on his eyes, a young man buffing his cuticles and toes and a veritable drinks cart of temptations nearby. Muscled, tall, properly proportioned and with those black irish tones. The weather is splendid, shining down through the skylight.

Live music is playing, a five piece classical quintet playing soft jazz. There may be a storm brewing this afternoon, but for now, there is a kind of tranquility.

Rogue has posed:
Not only does it suck, but there are *looks* that come with walking into a spa dressed more like you're learning how to swim an Olympic pool or prepare for a high dive stunt. Minus the gloves that Rogue wears on her hands, that's likely an argument she could make...at any other pool-spot in town. Here, she just looks and feels out of place, but when someone like Nathaniel Essex offers you a treat - one does not turn such a thing down.

Scott would have a coniption fit if he knew Rogue was out meeting the man he warned her about. So her leaving the mansion comes the next day after some science was done at the school garage, where Rogue's brother and friend were both turned pink for her sake. Between that and her birthday, raw emotions are needing to be shoved back into her box so a break away from the school and all the people there was actually welcomed.

No matter where it took her.

She does mention Nathaniel's name and is soon led to where he's been set up getting treated. Stepping in, tilting her head as the jazz finds her ears and then she moves to sit nearby but not too close to disturb those cuticle buffings. "Hello Nathaniel."

Sinister has posed:
Sinister smiles sublimely. "Aaahhh, miss Rogue. I was hoping that you would take me up on my offer. On occasion, it does a body good to be spoiled, I think." The voice, cultured as it ever is, carries a purr today and with a little twitch of his finger, the lad buffing his cuticles goes around the other side, so that he might peel a cucumber slice off of one eye and regard her lazily beneath his lashes.

"You are not dressed for the part though, I see. Tsk. And I have a feeling you have finally been warned about me. A shame, that... can I get you anything? Swedish massage, complete with buff and toned swede to administer it? Mani-pedi? Reflexology?"

Rogue has posed:
"I'm dressed for the part that I can afford to play. Anything more would be a bad judgment on my part." Rogue offers, then she shakes her head further. "I don't think that would be wise. Unless they're wearing gloves, or I remain clothed...I'm fine. Truly." As Sinister comments further on how he feels she's been warned about him, she shrugs. "Someone may have said some things. I reserve the right to take those words into account but make my own judgment based on my own experiences. From what I've witnessed so far, you're not evil incarnate." She looks to the floor for a moment then.

"I just figured it was nice of you to invite me here, and it'd of been rude for me to reject your offer. It's nice to get out, no matter what." Finally, she leans back a bit and turns her head to watch that one now uncovered eye of his before giving him a smirk. "Not to mention I ain't entirely sure this was the only thing your offer was covering."

Sinister has posed:
Sinister makes a moue of his lips, tsking softly. "If you wish to have a massage, I assure you, you may have one. That desire remains with you, however and I will not force you..." he flicks his eye to the drinks trolly however. "That at least, you can enjoy in spades I'd wager." Pause, beat "Evil incarnate, am I? I have been upgraded. Given there are so many villainous hoodlums out there, I seem to be on a very exclusive short-list. Did they tell you much?" He waggles his toes and the youth nods, heading down there to the pedi part, whilst Essex examines his cuticles, peeling the other cucumber slice off and discarding it.

"Was your birthday at least a treat?"

Rogue has posed:
"I mean I ain't ever had one before, so I think it'd be nice to get one..." Rogue offers and then she follows his gaze to the drink trolly and she moves to pluck a fluted drink from the cart. "Well, no one actually said Evil Incarnate... more like... twisted individual, with an obsession over a certain family tree. Wily, charming, and manipulative." She shrugs. "With a way to get into people's heads. I was also advised to not let you wiggle around in mine." She's being honest, but that's just her way, and then she sips at the liquid in the glass she plucked. It's no gin and tonic, but it tastes pretty good.

"My birthday was nice. Me and some friends went out for a drink. I got presents - like one does I guess. There was laughter, tears, food, drinks." She chuckles. "But it really drained my social battery. Which is still recharging."

Sinister has posed:
"Oh, they're likely quite correct about that warning. I do have a pernicious way of getting right on in there and weedling around," Sinister taps the side of his head, bobbing his eyebrows up once and once only. He looks over at the corner of the salle though and the employee of the spa nods, heading on over, dressed very smartly and well turned out. She looks at Rogue inquisitively, as Essex purrs "Whatever the lady would like as a treatment, please make sure she is treated like a queen, hmm?" "Yes Doctor Essex."

He then gestures to a lounger, smiling faintly to himself at the choice of drink selection. "I think I would be remiss if I did not ask you: Do you trust me? Enough for this at least." He waves his hand around at the spa.

Rogue has posed:
"I don't know what past experiences people have had with you. I was told there was a file. I have not looked at it. Mostly cause - for the most part - I don't rightly care. People change. Are mistaken. Judged unfairly. And for the most part, like I said, I can take warnings to heart and make my own assessments on people." Rogue offers once more, glancing to the employee who then seems to be waiting for her and she worries on her lower lip a moment.

"I trust you. Doctor Essex. It's other people..." she looks to the employee, "no offence." and then back to Sinister. "That I usually cain't trust. But...if you say it's safe...I don't think you're out to lie to me..." A pause as she considers. "What would you suggest anyway? Treatment wise?"

Sinister has posed:
Sinister's blue eyes settle on Rogue and fleetingly, they shimmer red, then he looks to the the employee. "As she's never had one before, I suggest... hmmm... head and neck deep tissue, mani-pedi and reflexology." THere is a nod from the young woman and she bustles off to prepare a screen for Rogue to change behind and provides a monographed silk robe to change into. A finger touches her ear and a soft murmur through her blue-tooth device gets oils, lotions and the reflexologist on hand to get to work. "You'll want to pick a cushy bench to lay down on, face up, hair over the end. They'll probably give you a scalp massage too, whilst they're at it, they usually do. Divine they are...."

Sinister then reaches his hand out to the drink's table and a mimosa floats over, taken by the very least amount of stem he can muster to sip at. "I'm quite old, you see. I would not dare to say I am the oldest being in the world, that would be egotistical, but I have seen more than one century come and go. That is quite a long time to have clocked up a rap sheet, as they say."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue is nervous, but of course she is, and it takes her a moment longer to actually stand and move behind that screen, stripping down and then putting the robe on. As she steps back out, her suit folded, gloves laying atop, she sets them where she's told to so they remain safe as can be. Her skin - where it can be seen - is a touch pale but it rarely sees the sun so that likely makes sense. Never the less, she obviously keeps up some sort of skin routine and other basic feminine grooming habits because she still /looks/ like a flawless beauty. At Sinister's last comment, she chuckles. "It was said you've had like, a century, to master the art of socializing. I can believe it."

A smile offered and then she moves to find a bench, comfy, cushy, laying on her back with her hair over the end like it was explained for her to have. She's still terrified, and as such it might take a bit for anyone working on her to get her to relax even a single muscle. But she might do. Eventually.

Sinister has posed:
"Manners maketh the gentleman," Sinister replies, without missing a beat, sighing as the pedicure gets well under way. The reflexologist and the deep tissue massage therapist appear to be one and the same. A middle aged lady with strong looking hands and neat looking nails, who smiles like a mother when she comes to the head of the table. "Just relax," like that's going to happen! She does not SEEM afraid though, as she oils her hands with grapeseed and moves to take position at Rogue's head. ANTICI-- --- --- --- ---

Hands are gently laid at the southern belle's shoulders and beyond the tingle of nerves and the terror of touch, nothing else happens. /Again/. It seems that it is not just Sinister that can touch her, but it seems others also, when in his presence.

--pation.

"Two centuries, actually. GIve or take a decade. The world has changed a great deal in these two centuries. Electricity, the lightbulb, two world wars, the harnessing of the atom... We didn't start the fire, it was always burning since the world's been turning."

Rogue has posed:
And Rogue is, once again, racked by things that do not make any sense to her. How is this woman...with very magic hands...able to touch her? Without her getting anything. No thoughts or consciousness, no memories. Nothing. It makes no sense to the southern belle, and yet after some time, and some working, she begins to relax into the massage and the reflexology that is presented. Though she's still listening to Sinister of course while her arm and hand is being worked.

"Two centuries? That's a long time. Though I bet Logan's older... or just about as old..." That offered with a bit of a chuckle. "Who knew a body could feel this good?" She figured, at some point, it has to be something to do with Sinister. He's had a long time to perfect everything about himself, and so maybe he's got something to do with it. Doesn't matter. It's being done, and Rogue is going to enjoy herself - especially since it's on the man's dime.

Sinister has posed:
"Logan? About as, I think. He might be a little older than I," Sinister responds, thoughtfully. "The wolverine was a legend amongst the fur trappers and others in the territories of the Columbia river, in the papers I recall reading. I find him anomalous, but relatively true to the form of mutation. Every so often extreme regenerative capabilities pop up and it inevitably leads to a long life. The telomeres of the cell's chromosomes do not degrade over time-- an interesting switch-off of the expiry date and thusly can replicate indefinitely, without the usual photocopy of a photocopy of a photocopy issue." There's a pause here, his voice drifting to waiting ears "...Although I am sure such things are boring and potentially confusing to contemplate."

The magic hands work on the fixators of her neck, up to the base, loosening a decade and more of tensions, her thumbs working into the hairline to loosen the scalp. It's never the same when you massage your OWN scalp, after all.

"This is why I indulge in a spa treatment from time to time. We have bodies rich in nerves, contact with skilled fingers is a creature comfort worth paying for. How is the young lady that I came upon, by the by?"

Rogue has posed:
Rogue actually gives a laugh and then tries to settle herself because that may throw the masseuse off their path. "You obviously know the people I live and work with. One among them is a scientist, who can prattle on about how things work for as long as you'll let him. I actually find it a bit endearing, and often times, I learn something from him. Which is a touch better than what I learned livin' on the streets in Mississippi." The lady offers just as fingers reach scalp and she can't help the moan of destressing that comes along with those magic fingers working.

"She's fine, far as I know. She and I talked a bit the day after. I reassured her that her fears were understandable given her upbringing, but also unwarranted. Poor girl. But I think she's okay." Though Rogue hadn't touched base with Megan since then either. She should make an effort and do just that. A breath taken and let out as more tension is released, visibly relaxing from the treatment being provided.

"When you can afford to pay it. This is a very rare treat, and I can only assume you have something to do with it being able to be done. So I owe you, I think..."

Sinister has posed:
"I did say. You cannot harm me, at least not like that. And you have been warned, I am telepathic, you know I am telekinetic -- it is not by any means a small thing to extend that to others in my vicinity, but it is ... a trivial thing." The way he says that, suggests courtesy, good manners, perhaps even social politesse, to diminish what might be a great effort, for the sake of societal pleasantries. "Money makes the world go around, much as that is an annoying side-effect of clustered humanity. When you have enough of it, there really is no sense in hoarding it and not -enjoying- being alive. Everyone has to destress, sometimes."

Sinister listens though, mulling over what was said before, to the tune of a thoughtful "Hmm. You have not had the opportunities afforded others. Would you -like- to learn? I find it infinitessimally more appropos, when individuals want to broaden their minds, as opposed to thrusting learning on someone willy nilly, in the hope that something sticks. That latter is a recipe for wasting a lot of time."

Rogue has posed:
There's a brief thought as to 'why' Rogue was allowing herself to be so open with Sinister. So honest. Especially on the coat tails of Scott nearly pleading with her not to interact with the man at all. Maybe there's still a little rebel in her that just wants to do things her way. Who knows? Still, when Sinister hits a couple nails on the head, she takes a breath. "Nah. Been a runaway since I was fourteen. Kinda how I got the name Rogue. Runnin' from home, livin' on the streets, makin' a way for myself. Maybe not in the best ways to some degree but it was my own. So yeah, didn't really get to finish fancy schoolin' or nothin'. I'd like to learn stuff. Stuff seems interestin'."

Still the way Sinister explains things about his power and being that he has the abilities of telepathy, he can extend whatever it is that keeps him out of harms way from her, to others. Interesting. She takes another breath and then turns her gaze as much as she can to regard him - especially if he's still sitting down a ways from her. "Anyway. If I ain't said it yet. Thanks. For all this, I mean. It's a nice treat."

Sinister has posed:
"Mmmmm. I would probably have been less composed, had I your gifts. As it was, I had a rather mundane childhood, a passable youth and only really got interesting in any way, when I was a grown man. Learning about street life was a stumbling block that took several decades to conquer and left me falling flat on my face on several occasions," Sinister admits this, looking down at his feet as the pedicure is completed. He gestures to dismiss the youth and lowers the back of the chair, so that he is almost all the way horizontal on the sun lounger, adjusting himself so that he might look over, watching her being pampered.

"You are welcome; it is interesting to me, watching you receive what others take for granted. It piques my curiosity and reminds me of the simpler things. I do not mean to be rude, there. But we do take for granted what you consider to be a luxury."

Rogue has posed:
"Streets are all I really know. I mean I've learned a bit here and there bein' where I am now. I wouldn't really wish the life on anyone these days. I suppose when I was younger I didn't likely give a shit." This much said as Rogue glances over to see that Sinister has laid down and turns to look her way to watch. Though this sort of makes her feel almost too vulnerable, and she shifts to stare at the ceiling and just lets the worker do their magic.

"I don't see it as being rude. You're just speakin' a truth. It wouldn't matter if it's somethin' as grand as this here or...as simple as walkin' down a street holding hands with someone. There's a lot that comes second nature to most that I gotta be mindful about." She offers this much more and then takes a slow breath in and out.

Sinister has posed:
"I wonder, sometimes." What he wonders about, Sinister doesn't share, leaving that thought just hanging, unfulfilled. He continues to watch, whether it makes her vulnerable or not, though it is by all intents a casual thing, it is still constant, that feeling of eyes on her. "Try the foot reflexology also," he instructs the masseuse, who nods and after finishing up above, murmurs that Rogue can adjust so her head is resting on the bench, heading footward. If it feels good above, those pressure points on the feet do astounding things.

"Intransience of ignorance is a deplorable thing. We should all walk a mile in another's shoes, it would be enlightening to all concerned. Do you have any questions for me? I've been a thorough bore, I'm sure."

Rogue has posed:
ZOMG! There's nerve endings tingling in her feet that Rogue surely never knew where actually there. In fact, she almost loses herself in the moment of all the wonderful sensations that ride up into her back at some points, and then she finally seems to get accustomed to the feeling. Sort of. The words that hang from Sinister. What he wonders. Does sort of cause her some confusion as she turns her head to watch him for a moment longer.

"Not really a bore. We've been talkin' back and forth enough I think. M'not sure if the questions I'd ask you are...appropriate...to be talkin' bout out in the open like this." She offers this much. "Unless you wanna quell a curiosity sneakin' into my brain and let me know what it is you wonder sometimes..." This is asked while watching him. Sure, she's got plenty of questions. Plenty of things to sort out about the man who's treating her, but whom she was also warned against. "Ain't no skin off my back either way."

Sinister has posed:
"The answer to that is complicated," Sinister replies, sitting up from his lounge and letting the towel hang over his lap, preserving his dignity as he adjust the lounger to support him in this position. He gazes at his toes as one foot, then the other is lifted, examining the work that was done. His skin shimmers, going through various iterations of tan, before he settles on a lightly sunkissed shade, reaching up behind his head in a stretch that flexes all the right muscles for a moment. "When I was still a man, I found street people to be confusing and incomprehensible, for the simple reason that I had very little frame of reference. Back then, they had a good deal to do with certain choices I made, which I am sure coloured me. I like to muse on occasion, had a different hand been dealt. Had I made different choices, here and there."

Rogue has posed:
"M'pretty sure we all do that from time to time. In various manners, for various reasons. I could come up with several narratives for a few different choices in my life." Rogue offers and then she shrugs. "Yet the choices I've made - all of them - all the good and bad I've done in my life... has led me here. I got a good family, friends. I ain't a saint by any means now, but m'sure it'd be a hell of a different story if I changed anything about my past."

She then shrugs, and gives a bit of a smirk, actually sitting up a bit and waves the worker from her feet. Straightening the robe a little, she makes sure her bits what matter are covered and then walks back over to sit on the lounger right next to Sinister's. "What's your game, Doctor Essex? Why're you bein' so nice to me to begin with? And believe me, I can tell when someone's puttin' too much sugar in mah tea, so I'd take it as a kindness if you actually just tell me in plain terms."

Sinister has posed:
Sinister waves a fresh mimosa over, letting it float to his fingertips and gazes over the spa floor, the aesthetics of this room and pool area tickling certain affectations. Oh, sure, he knows she got up and moved, knows that she dismissed the masseuse and he takes his sweet time sipping and expressing satisfaction with a soft sigh, before he looks at her, plainly.

"I am fascinated by you. I forgive the fact you did not recognize me that first night, after all who expects one of the Arch-nemeses of the X-men to be floating about, having a private moment in the skies, thinking about strategies and failures. That singular opportunity though, allowed me to explore a moment, before being faced with a wall of antagonism or as is often quite common, an attempt to kill me. Mister Worthington attempted that several times, on my last encounter with him. You see... as far as I can tell, there is no rational explanation as to why you cannot control your gifts. Certainly, there are all manner of things I -could- do to uncover the reason for that, but I'm trying this new thing lately, where I don't automatically jump to just being an ass about things. I've been there, done that. It can be very tiresome."

Rogue has posed:
"I don't think you were in any way making yourself recognizeable... and I recall not being in my best mind that night really." Rogue admits. "Still learnin' how to be social and such...without it being nearly the death of me." A pause. "Not literally, mind you.." Then she chuckles and takes a slow breath, listening as he speaks further.

"We've just all figured it's just not a controllable thing. It's obviously got some limitations, but unfortunately those limitations are non-living things. There are other mutants who can't control their gifts...but they also have ways of working around them. So maybe the reason is that there ain't no reason. My gift doesn't have a control feature. I just gotta learn to live around that." Which drives home something else Scott said to her, and she swallows a lump in her throat. "So you're tryin'a turn over a new leaf? Is that it? Am I your experiment into doin' such?"

Sinister has posed:
"In a manner of speaking, yes, miss Rogue. In a manner of speaking," Sinister replies, looking up and down her dressing gown'd frame to her face. "But you are also a charming lady, which very much helps in the attempt."

He sips again at his mimosa, sniffing the bubbles with a hint of pleasure. "Often, an inability to control a power, is because it's a natural permanent state, or it is a damaged genome. I am quite certain of what I speak of, by the by."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue takes a breath and lets it out slowly before biting on her lower lip and then she stands and moves to the nearby drink stand to pluck a mimosa for herself. Returning to her seat, she takes a slow sip, almost like she's weighing things. "Well, what you call charming most might call off putting. I think you might have a few wires crossed in that head of yours."

Then she shrugs. "Right. Cause you're a geneticist. Did I say that right? Some words don't slip off this southern tongue properly. Anyway, s'what you got your doctorin' in yeah? So you would know a thing or two... but that also gives room to other things said about you bein' true." The young woman sort of fishes a bit now.

Sinister has posed:
Sinister chuckles now, closing his eyes as he rests in the lounger, his head resting on the back of the chair and his lashes brushed against cheeks. "My dear lady, if you're going to start fishing, at least bait the line with something tasty. But if you're an admirer of straight shooting, which you appear to have been in previous moments, please do me the honour of aiming for the mark. If you have a question you actually want to ask, whether it will colour your mind negative or positive, /ask/ it. I have not hidden things, I simply have not put them to light, or have not thought to share them." He cracks one eye open, glanced sidelong, then closes it once again.

"Actually, I am a Doctor. I was a general physician and surgeon. The topic of genetics had not even been heard of, at the time when I began studies. I picked it up after and uncovered a great deal on my own. These days, I likely understand more about the human and mutant genome than any other individual alive-- I gave myself most of the gifts you see. I was not born a mutant, I was born an ordinary human being."

Rogue has posed:
Oh he's good. Rogue raises a brow still, and sips at her mimosa again while pondering over the offered words. She actually listens to him speak in the entirety of what he offers, catching that side long glance, and even hearing him admit he was born an ordinary human being. "It's been said that you've cloned mutants in the past. Even tortured them." She looks around, it doesn't seem like the workers even nearest to them are blinking an eye to their conversation. Fine enough for her at this point.

"I suppose what I'm wonderin' is if in the long run I gotta be worried about you muckin' around in my head, clonin' me, and or - at the end of it all - torturing me for the sake of it." A pause as she considers. "You asked me if I trust you. I said I did. As far as this moment is concerned. There's a lot of trust left for you to earn, Nathaniel. And I'll shoot straight and bait the line however you want me to s'long as it gets me the truth."

Sinister has posed:
Sinister smiles and it's the first full on smile he's ever given in her presence. They're always faint things, half things, like he refused to commit to one in its wholeness. He glances at the people, perhaps some thoughts are just bloody obvious ones. "They hear what I want them to hear. You can speak frankly, they will think what they want to, to rationalize why I have an entire room and a good portion of the staff at my beck and call. It does not hurt them, if you worry over that. And free will has a knack of putting in what it wants, to spin an understanding. THey're being paid handsomely."

Then he considers the rest, his chin lifting a little, gazing at her slightly askew. "Do I strike you as the kind of man that does anything without a good reason for it, miss Rogue? Forgive me, I am not trying to avoid or deflect, I just want to be clear on your understanding of me."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue glances around to the workers and then back to Sinister. He has them in the palm of his hand, and that was a little scary. When he assures her they aren't being harmed, and are being paid handsomely, she does seem to relax a little. Then her attention returns fully to the man in front of her and she tilts her head.

"Not without good reason no. That don't mean the path to that reasoning ain't skewered in some way. Even the road to hell is paved with good intentions." She says and then she shrugs. "My understanding of you is that you've been around a long time. You've got a past, and you're working on a new future. The blanks are filled both by you and others who have dealt with you. But I am sure you know that if I truly did not want to come here, to further interact with you, I wouldn't have."

Sinister has posed:
"...And that is why I am being as frank with you as I can be, miss Rogue." Sinister replies to that last, nodding his head just so. He rests his head back again, this time looking to the chandeliers and the opulence that the place affords, for the sake of pampering. Something about it strikes him as perhaps wistful, judging by the expression he wears. Or nostalgic perhaps. "I have never tortured anyone simply for the sake of it. I have always done it for a good reason, which of course, is neither here nor there. I rarely do so, if that makes any difference. I don't need to any more, my understanding is quite thorough. Despite everyting that you have been told by others, I am actually /not/ malicious. I'm not sadistic either. Amoral, unethical, yes. I do not regret what I have done in the past, because it has born fruit; and that unfortunately, makes me irredeemable to the sense of moral justice. If I were a great man of the twentieth century, or even the nineteenth, my statues would have been torn down and cancelled to cries of 'Murderer!' or 'Exploitationist' or woe is me... 'Collonial'." He sighs a little. "You know the Jungle book? The Mowgli stories? Disney did all kinds of things with it that would have made Rudyard Kipling shudder, but if you read the originals, you would understand why his work is no longer taught, is no longer shared, with a very few exceptions in the form of children's books. He was a collonial; used racist slurs aplenty, stood by to catalogue beatings, horrors against the indian peoples, yet with a sense of wonder and love of the peoples. The times when I was born and grew into myself, they were very different from now. Sometimes old habits are very hard to break. I have been striving, lately, to break of 'collonial' habits. I do not need to steal what I can pay for."

He pauses then, looking at her frankly. "I would have no need to clone you. I don't /need/ to clone anyone, these days but sometimes, it's helpful for me. Also, willing subjects of experimentation do happen sometimes."

Rogue has posed:
"Whether it was just to do it, or with reason...it's still torture.." Rogue offers. "What people don't seem to understand though, is that my powers are a form of torture. So even I could say I've done such, and with intentions a few times. What else would you call ripping someone's very conscious out of their body?" She offers this much and then shakes her head. "I'm sure you could be, if you truly wanted to be, both malicious and sadistic. Still, perception is skewered, far as I believe...and mostly emotion-based...which is why someone telling me things about you is taken into consideration along with what I experience when with you myself. Some people wouldn't want that to happen. They'd much rather tell a person something and let that be the basis of how someone is perceived. I don't believe in that. In a world like ours...there's too many shades of grey for one to work in black and white alone." She listens further, giving nods where she can affirm to questions and then tilts her head as he talks about the Mowgli stories, and how the author would likely roll over in their grave. She considers this, while Sinister keeps talking.

"You do seem to keep your subjects well taken care of. I'm still a bit confused - aside from me being charming and fascinating - as to why that deems me wholly an interest of yours. Just..yeah..why me?" A pause. "As much as I may be a willing subject...if the cost wasn't too high."

Sinister has posed:
Sinister looks at her at this, then slings his legs over the side of his chair so that he's squarely facing her, leaning forward and still somehow keeping the towel in place. He leans forward, looking her her face, her eyes, not her physique, or the lovely silk clinging to every curve. In. The. Eye.

"I am going to sound terribly gauche now, but I will persevere..." he caveats, then continues "...beautiful, sassy, incredibly fragile yet immensely strong, self-assured and horribly afraid of everything at the same time. As a package, you are delicious, my dear. And on a nitty gritty level," here he flashes teeth in a /grin/ "...you have a torturous power that you rigidly control, but you comprehend has uses. Amazing isn't it, how others are willing to exploit what you have, by waving a different flag over it. But that's..." he waves a hand at the mild annoyance, looking away for a moment, then back. "You are also /painfully/ and /exquisitely/ unique. That to me, is fascinating." Which sounds flattering as all get out, one might suppose.

"Why? Because somehow, you still -are-. You have /the/ most radically potent and /extraordinarily/ rare ability to alter your own genome through your gift, although I am sure you have no idea how you did it, when I had to struggle, strive, experiment and butcher myself to achieve the same end. You can do so with a -touch-. And yet your mind still /is/. I know the resiliance of the human soul has limits. The mind also, yet... here you are. Still you. Amazing and sassy and extremely forthright."

Rogue has posed:
Sorry Sinister, but Rogue is still a woman with certain wants and desires, so there's a glance in a general downward direction before she's greeted with naught but towel. Then she feels eyes. His eyes. On her. And her green gaze shifts to him and the gaze is held for so long as he holds it.

She listens to his every word. Every drop of honey that drips from his tongue, and since he has no reason or necessity to lie, she deems it all truth. The way Sinister sets her so gently upon a pedestal and then furthers that seat with trappings of visions that she never once considered. Hell, she doesn't even have a comeback, or a statement, she just listens intently, and maybe that will be both her uprising and downfall. However he spins it, it's made to sound like this beautiful tragedy that she keeps in her head - and in many ways, that is undeniably true.

"You're right." She finally speaks. "I have no idea how I did it. How I do it. I just know the basics. I touch someone - I gain things from them. Memories, consciousness, abilities if they have them...this is nothing new to anyone who knows me... but...alter my genome? That seems a bit...extreme." She looks herself over then. "If that were the case then why do I only have the powers I took from Ms. Marvel as permanant abilities? Why have I not remained able to use any power I've ever taken..." She shakes her head. "You sound like someone who both wants to rip me apart and date me at the same time. But not *at* the same time, just like you have both of those wants..." She flails a hand. "I really think you're paintin' me as somethin' more than I really am..."

Sinister has posed:
"I'm not," Nathaniel replies, giving a short shake of his head. "I suspect with the woman whose powers you took, it was a matter of intent and timing. For something to be permanent, you would have to willingly hold on for a good length of time, to the point where you might well have killed them. I believe you put the victim of your contact in a coma." He says it matter of factly, then actually blinks a few times, staring at her afterwards. Finally, his gaze drifts southward a little bit and back up. "I refuse to objectify a lady and I have not let myself consider... dating as you say... since the death of my wife, centuries ago." That's a long time to hold a torch, but also a long time to be alone. He inhales deeply, composing himself perhaps, then stands up, taking a step forward to go down on one knee (he's tall) and reaches a hand to her cheek. Now, that usually resulted in nothing, as with the kiss he bestowed one night above the forest. He leans down to bestow another at the /corner/ of her mouth, in a strange courtesy. But the power kicks in juuuuuuuuuuust a little, siphoning the beginnings of memory and that and only that, before it vanishes.

In the memory, is a flawed genome. But the memory comes through as bad luck. A son born with congenital defects, who never thrived, was sickly. Died young. A wife that supported, yet had her doubts. A second pregnancy with more complications and a daughter that died with her mother ".....I find you terribly Sinister..." lingering at the last, though the memory is coloured with a desperate attempt to /save/ both daughter and son. Genetics that was not understood. A wife that scorned him with her last breath. A self-loathing that catalyzed into a determination to stop such terrible mutations that turned into a Sinister approach to perfecting what was random and irregular and the last, his most current thought:

Life is extreme and it does not judge. It just hands out what it will. It is up to us to harness our own will.

Rogue has posed:
The first note made, about how Rogue put Ms. Marvel in a coma - that has her flinching. The memory isn't a pleasant one, and she doesn't rightly enjoy remembering it even on her own. Though that thought is derailed as he offers another one, about how he doesn't objectify women and also hasn't dated, or likely done anything, since his wife's death. "...Centuries is an awful long time to be alone..." She offers while watching him fall to a knee, leaning into that touch to her cheek just so before feeling that kiss to the corner of her lips. She'd gotten used to the fact that him touching her wasn't going to set off her powers that when they do kick in even that little bit, she gives a sort of surprised jolt..

Then there's the memories. They flicker through her mind like someone sitting watching cinema. Only this movie is tragic and has no good ending. Two children dead. A wife gone. And that slow descent into...madness? Self abuse? By the end of it, a single tear dares to fall from the corner of one of Rogue's pretty emerald eyes and then she hears that last thought fill her head.

Her eyes shut and she stands - as forcibly as necessary - walking away from him, from the memories, the thoughts. Arms wrap around herself as she tries to push them out of her mind faster than it normally takes for them to disappear. "You asshole. Warn a person next time, damn it..." A hand lifting then to swipe at her eyes. A breath taken. "...You're doing it for them? For people like them? To try and fix what's broken?"

Sinister has posed:
"For all of us," But Sinister does not apologise. "I am an ass. I am worse than that, by all accounts. But sometimes, seeing is believing, or at least comprehending. I do not want belief or pity. I do not deserve that." Sinister watches her back the shape of her, stood there, holding herself firm, grounded.

"I made a mistake a long time ago, in selling my soul so to speak, to the wrong devil. It is a cankour I cannot excize. But that is my burden, it's clear. That one would have only the very fittest survive. I would see all improved, rise up, be strong. End what destroys us. Eventually, homo sapiens will be a footnote, not through anything but time. But for every Rogue, there is an unfortunate who produces slug repellent slime, or whose powers as they come to learn them, wreak such damage to them that they expire before they've learned to control."

Sinister's footsteps can be heard walking away, around the edge of the pool, gazing in the water. "And those things we have to accept, I defy having to accept them. It's insulting to be considered a second class citizen. I have found however, that money is a great equalizer."

Rogue has posed:
"Money will always be a great equalizer in the land of the greedy few who run the world the rest of us have to survive in." Rogue offers, looking in Sinister's direction as he walks around the pool. She considers, and then she shakes her head, moving to grab her clothing from where she left it, and hides behind the screen again in order to change from robe back to body suit and gloves.

There's a different demeanor when she steps back out, comfortable, but also...defeated. Like she was accepting something she shouldn't have to. For now, however, it will have to do. "Maybe you an' that devil can make some sort of peace some day, though way I see it, I think he's already got yer soul and now you're just on borrowed time." There's a pause, a final glance around the spa, and then a more pointed look in his direction.

"Thanks again. For all this. You've given me... a lot to think over. However, I think I should be getting back to the mansion before people begin wondering where I went off to." This much and she offers him a smile.

Sinister has posed:
"Again, you are quite welcome. I hope that at least some of it was pleasant and that you leave here with more than you came in with," Sinister looks over at her and he appears to be fully dressed. When that happened, who knows? His attire changes as he walks back to the staff, going from casual smart, to extremely sharp and slick, armani and polish, ralph lauren shirts and waistcoat finely embroidered. He hands a single envelope that looks rather thick to the woman masseuse.

"Perhaps we will meet again, sometime. Happy birthday, anyway." He does not make to stop her.