13858/Well, if that don't take the biscuit

Well, if that don't take the biscuit
Date of Scene:	06 October 2021
Location:	Club Lux, Melville
Synopsis:	...yep it truly do. Came in itching for a fight, left with more thoughts. Rogue needs to stop letting Sinister into her head!
Cast of Characters:	Sinister, Rogue

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Sinister has posed:
A little while earlier, one particularly hot-headed debutante that was denied being the homecoming queen, amongst many other things in her young life, followed the cloud of anger and itchy punchin' fingers after Sinister. Well, she'd shadowed him the day before when he'd flown back here in a storm, then come after hours. Words needed having, hopefully of the fighting kind, or at least the 'piece of her mind' kind, but you never know how this is going to turn out. See, most people don't hunt Sinister down. There's probably a reason for that. We'll see how that goes.

Anyway, the proprietor of this particular establishment having ascended to his Penthouse, the elevator soon dings and slides open, a familiar figure seen inside, in a somewhat familiar outfit, sans the cloak. Living steel clads his chest, the black and red affair, with gloves on and hands tucked in the small of his back, he looks about with a frown and little else, stepping free and down the couple of steps to the VIP terrace. "This is highly irregular, you know."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue watches Sinister as he descends from where the elevator drops him off, looking all prim and proper, like a classy gentleman. Too bad this one doesn't have any manners what so ever and she's apparently here to prove that. His singular comment gets a brow raised from her even as she stands, arms crossed over her chest, and green eyes peering into red orbs. "Spare me the circle jerk. You have this way of comin' round and makin' me think and stirring up shit inside my head... and then you leave. Or you continue to talk around whatever it is you're stirring up and never give any answers. It's annoying. So I'm here to finish at least one conversation so my brain will shut up." She's all tense and like a cat about ready to pounce - or TnT ready to explode. Perhaps tred with caution here.

Sinister has posed:
Sinister descends with a raise of an eyebrow, steps clipped on the club floor, bootheels punctual in their rapport. "Circle jerk? Well..." one of those faces where too many things happen at the same time and he settles on a clear of the throat, looking down her jumpsuited form and up again. "I'm not sure if that says more about you, or me, my dear Rogue. However, I must apologise. At the moment, you have me at a disadvantage. Did you not -want- to be left alone the last time I saw you? Or was I supposed to have been a mind-reader, when you clearly told me in no uncertain terms to stay out of your head, for that conversation?"

Ouch. Point.

"So, being that I wasn't about to play silly buggers with someone that says they're going when they're really staying and did not feel like pushing an issue that was currently uninvited, I decided that I would do a completely logical and wholely masculine thing and actually," pause, gasp "...take you at your word."

Rogue has posed:
"Staying out of my head was one request. One single request because you like to go picking around there. You were also poking at how much I was screaming the want to be alone and still you tried to pry things out of me. And you got a few things as well... and then the whole conversation was just..." Course, he's right, the asshole. Rogue did make clear indications she wanted to be left alone and then he, actually, left her alone. That punches a little bit of wind out of her sails, but not quite enough. "Why did you try and pick at my brain even though it seemed clear enough that I wasn't in a social mood?" Is she ever? "...What do you want from me?"

Sinister has posed:
"You aren't going to like the answer, miss Rogue," Sinister replies with a shrug, guaging the deflation as one might the pressure valves on a nuclear power station. Just because they've inched out of red, does not mean you're safe to go about your merry way. There's still a meltdown scenario potential. "But you asked," he sniffs, looks at her placidly. "I want your honesty. And frankly, it's better to get it by studying and watching you, than to poke at your brain with specificity. People don't much like being probed, you know and when I'm not in callous disregard of sense, sensibility and willingness, that actually has a deciding factor."

He gestures at her. "I want to help you. Mostly because I find you uniquely fascinating, but also because it would really piss Remy LeBeau off and I do love playing with his psyche."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue raises a brow and then shakes her head. "I ain't been dishonest with you, Sinister. I've told you more than I've probably told anyone else. Have I led you into thinkin' otherwise?" No, not quite out of the danger zone yet. But direct questions with actual direct answers help those pressure valves release a little bit more. It's when he mentions helping her, and piss off Remy LeBeau, that he's actually piqued her attention a little more and in a positive way. "Piss off the Swamp Rat?" She asks, an actual smirk teasing the corners of her lips. "How would that work?"

Sinister has posed:
Sinister glances up and to the side, at one of the security cameras that litter Lux. He smiles at the nearest one, gestures at the bar and helps himself to a bottle of whiskey. One of the higher end, but NOT the best that there is, floating it to one of the barstool rings that litter the dance floor edge. He perches on the stool, floats a couple of nice crystal glasses over and pours neat. "If you want it mixed, I'm not the best mixologist. He's upstairs, but he's not coming down any time soon," apparently that look was tacit 'I'm taking some of the booze'. "Part of your problem is that you can't touch people. THat's caused all kinds of endless frustrations I'm sure and I'm not privvy to all of the FUBARS that have happened. Truthfully, I don't care. Le Beau likely wouldn't like to admit that he owes -me- one either, but he does. I fixed him. I bet he never told anyone that, unless under duress." He lifts his whiskey, indicates hers. "I can probably fix you. The difference is, I totally and utterly will hold it over that man's head. He annoys me. Plus he thought he could waltz into my lab with his little buddy, screw with my research, steal from me and I /wouldn't notice/ him. Pff. I am less inclined to doing the same thing to you. Mostly, because I don't think I have to."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue glances up, as if she could see through all the layers and look at the man that Sinister is refering to. She also shifts her gaze to the camera and gives a peace sign with a little stuck out tongue as a pose. Then she settles at the bar with a stool between herself and Sinister, watching him for a moment as he pours two whiskeys. She takes one, no mixer, and sips gingerly of the alcohol itself first. "Wait... what do you mean you fixed Remy? What the hell did he need..." She pauses, considers. "...Something about his kinetic energy I bet. The bastard." Mutterings before she takes a breath and lets it out slowly. As Sinister continues to explain about what kind of pain in the ass LeBeau has been to him she smirks. "Well...if I can do something to help you piss of that cajun crook... I'm all for it." A pause in her thoughts then. "But shouldn't you care about some of the fubars? What happened with them and what I've gained from them?"

Sinister has posed:
"You've taken memories, powers, some of them on a permanent basis and left some individuals in a coma. You worked on the streets with Mystique when you were younger, the world isn't black and white for you and you spend a lot of time being terrified you're going to hurt the people you actually care about, so you don't care, or try not to and isolate yourself, all of which is actually contrary to the nature you used to have before all this, which was sunny and outgoing. I bet nobody would believe that..." Sinister sips his whiskey "...or did I miss some of the FUBAR? But you are correct. His energy control was out of control. I gave him back his control. Fixed him. You know what's truly ironic about all of that nonsense with his buddy, is that the man had the actual gall to think he had the right to bargain on someone else's life. Just goes to show you where morals lean sometimes, if you think you can get something out of it." He clucks his tongue, sniffs, smiles and looks at her. "Voluntary testing. Measuring, and the like. I won't take your DNA, do horrible things to you. I want cooperation, because it's liable to be more successful than coersion anyway. You see, as far as I could tell, there's no reason why you can't touch someone, so the issue is likely something specific."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue scoffs, mostly because she has no other place for that particular emotion in the moment. There's something there that Rogue isn't saying, or perhaps she's only speculating so she doesn't want to speak what may not be true.

But damn it it don't seem suspicious.

Never the less, she takes another sip of the whiskey and seems to consider. "Doesn't sound like I'd have as much to lose as I would to gain, if anything were able to come from it." She offers, sips again. "Are you just not the villian people paint you to be, or do you pick and choose who you're villanous with?"

Sinister has posed:
"I'm a patient man. I am also striving to learn," Sinister replies, swallowing whiskey and lifting the glass, this time in a toast to the camera. He looks at her afterwards, leaning on the bar with one elbow. "Also, there's very few people that are pitch black to their core. Sometimes, there's nothing you can do or say, to elicit cooperation from someone. They'll take nothing you give, refuse all reason. And sometimes, what they have is far too important to be bothered with the niceties. I've done that kind of thing before, but I'll note, not that you'll believe... but I've not been -dishonest- with you. I am not malicous, usually. I have no reason to be. I don't torture people for no reason, just for the hell of it, there's always a reason I do what I do, even if people don't appreciate it." He considers, fishes a smoke out and leaves the pack in easy reach, lighting his own. "I'm also a genius, which sometimes has its downsides. Nevertheless, nobody knows more about the genetic code than I, with perhaps a few notable exceptions that come close. I understood the principles of CRISPR technology long before someone figured out how to do it and thanks to all the so-called villainous things I've done, I have the best database of anyone on the planet, for sheer volume of genetic material studied. If anyone can work out what's going on with you, it is I, my dear."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue listens, intently, almost as if she's fixated on every word that comes out of Sinister's mouth. Almost entraced, really, by the grace and silver that comes off his tongue. Whether she truly believes him or not is anyone's guess, but thus far, he has not led her astray. Some people have warned her against him, true, but in the end... this is her life. It is her decision. If she wants to learn more about herself, get to the core of it, *fix* it so she can lead a somewhat normal life, then what's the harm? Truly?

As the pack of cigarettes is produced, placed on the bar in easy reach, she helps herself to one. "You're right. So far, you've not been dishonest. I have no reason to believe that anything you say is malicious in its intent, and I don't believe I should simply start thinking such now. Not until you give me a reason to..." She offers, listening further. His proposition, in a sense. To study her, and to help her. So in the end, they both benefit. This isn't where she thought she would be at the end of this night. Far from, really. She expected a fight, physical or otherwise, and instead...an actual conversation. "Alright, Sinister. I'm sold."

Sinister has posed:
Sinister smiles at her. "I'm very glad to hear it. I really didn't want to be in the midst of a knuckle-dusting and I was mildly concerned that was going to be an outcome. I prefer not to fight, if I don't have to." But there is that impression that if you pushed him, he wouldn't have any compunctions. It just isn't his go-to. Smoke is flicked, drink is refreshed. "I have a funny feeling I popped your bubble."

Rogue has posed:
"Had this continued where we were it might have wound up netting a few punches thrown. I think this worked out better for us in the long run." Says the anti-social belle of the X-Men. She downs the rest of her whiskey before taking a long drag off her cigarette. "Popped what bubble?"

Sinister has posed:
Sinister raises a fist, twirls it and bops the air. "That one."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue ah's and nods. "Right. Yes. Perhaps." She finishes the cigarette, putting it out in the ashtray on the bar and then shifts to stand. "So, I guess you'll call on me when you're ready to...do whatever it is you intend to do?"

Sinister has posed:
"Anyway..." Sinister lifts his whiskey. "To new projects." Clinking his glass against hers at least in the imagination and raising it to his lips to down the rest. "By the by, you've met him. The one I met." He nods toward the cameras. "So I'm quite glad you didn't get all up in his face, it would've ended badly. And also by the by, I meant every word I said about loneliness. I never looked for, nor expected what I found. But occasionally, it finds you, despite yourself. Annoying thing about addages, particularly the old ones -- when you least expect it. But..." he rises off his stool here, gesturing with his almost spent cigarette around Lux "...schedules are a flexible thing and timing when you have responsibilities is more delicate. If you need to contact me, you can leave a message here, at his club. It'll reach me. Or, if you feel like giving me a headache, you can think very loudly in my direction. Either way, I will hear. And we can progress from there."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue thinks about that for a moment and then nods her head. "That's fair. I'm sorry if I seemed any sort of way about it. I just hope he makes you happy." This much and then she nods at that last bit. "Either way, I'm sure we'll find each other again. We always seem to. Have a nice night, Sinister." Then she looks to the camera, waves, and heads out the front door.