14171/Hello Phobia, My Old Friend

Hello Phobia, My Old Friend
Date of Scene:	07 March 2022
Location:	Hank's Lab - X-Men Base
Synopsis:	Rogue recalls her encounter with Fear Incarnate to Beast. Confesses a feeling, and comes up with a game plan concerning her powers.
Cast of Characters:	Rogue, Beast

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Rogue has posed:
Rogue is back to her ususal attire of spandex leggings and top, only she covers it with cut off shorts and a tee shirt that reads 'The Voices In My Head Say They Don't Like You...And Neither Do I' ... with gloves. Her hair is pulled back in a pony tail - but she doesn't seem phased to have to be all covered up again. She walks into Hank's Lab like she owns the place, carrying a box that's gift wrapped and a small stack of books. She sets et all on the nearest and most empty table she can find before shifting to pull the table with her as she moves to sit on the edge of a bed, swinging her legs a little and whistling as she cracks open a book entitled 'Encyclo-phobias'. (Not a real book, but I wanted to be punny) Whether or not Hank is in the lab is a non-issue since this is now her quiet spot regardless.

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy isn't actually in there initially. However, there are signs and portents that suggest he's been in and out all day. For one, one of the terminals is on and running calculus by the looks of it and he's got a bunch of gadgets on the farthest counter and a large blue soda. He's absent about twenty minutes before the door slides open and he hustles on in, looking up immediately over the top of his glasses. Because he could tell someone was in here, of course, by the scent. "Hellooooooo," with a grin, he passes on by, claws out to kind of tickle the top of her hair with the ends of them, a brush of contact that's felt at least, before he heads to reclaim his soda, a tray full of freshly soldered doohickies on the top of it. He's apparently doing repairs or modifications today, overall. "Spot of bedtime reading?"

Rogue has posed:
"Hiiii. Sorry to intrude on your lab. I hope you don't mind..." The scritches to her head that Hank gives are met with a soft sound of enjoyment before he's walking away from her a bit. "Sort of? I ah..." She frowns a little and worries on her lower lip. "I had an interesting encounter last night... kinda made me curious about some things..." That's all he gets for the moment. "Oh! I.. I got you something.." And she pulls out the rectangular gift wrapped box and offers it out to the man.

Beast has posed:
"Ohh! My goodness! And it's not even my birthday, eeeee!" Smiling, Beast sniffs at the box because habit is a hard thing to break, before pulling the ribbon/string and lifting the edge with a claw, to peek dramatically inside. "Is this one of those rabbit hole moments, where you came across something that set your brain off and you end up a million miles away from where you started out at? Or is that just me? Phobias, huh?"

Rogue has posed:
Rogue grins and nods. When Hank gets done undoing the ribbon and taking off the paper wrapping he will find himself gifted with a variety pack of twinkies. They don't do this, like, ever, so what the heck?? There's pumpkin spice, fudge covered, regular, and some sort of star spangled decorated one. A pack of 16 so there's four of each kind. "I have friends in places. So... I called in a favor. Also... I don't know. Maybe? But like.." And then she tells Hank about what happened the night before in Central Park, including the phobia she was accused of having. But she didn't know the person, and all that.

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy stares at the variety pack of twinkies. "My word, I think I might have a touch of the vapours," sitting down on one of his stools, he giggles at the pack, looking at the various delights to be had. "I like your friends. They have star spangle sprinkles." He takes great pleasure in stowing the pack in the emergency hidden stash up at the back of the top shelf. Swinging himself back down, he looks considerate of the supposition, chewing it over with a roll of his tongue over the teeth. "Well, that's not an impossibility. You do dislike being -alone- even if you do spend a lot of time solitary. Hermiting isn't something you do by choice, is it? I wonder though." He strokes at his chin, rubbing at it with the back of his knuckles, contemplating it very visibly on his face. Brows lift, frown, an argument agreement of a few blinks and a tip of the head to the side in a nod. "From what I know of your history, I could posit that supposition that you might have a form of autophobia, yes."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue frowns a little. "Well then I'm kinda screwed aren't I? Cause... phobias can't be fixed, or cured..." She says this in a sort of defeated way. "How can someone have a phobia and not know it? That don't make a lick of sense to me..." She huffs a little then before setting her book aside. "I mean, you ain't wrong. I don't hermit by choice, I keep myself away from people because I feel I have to. Cause I...I know I'm dangerous." Knowing. Feeling. Believing. It's all the same in Rogue's mind at the moment. Something she has to begin to separate so she can work on it, but that's like putting a crowbar between a rock and a hard place thinking they'll separate easy.

Beast has posed:
"Well, no, that's not entirely true. Phobias can be overcome, but the effort is extreme and involves the individual having to be determined to do so. "Hmmm. Right..." tapping claws on the counter beside where he sits, Beast licks his lips with a tiny dart of tongue. "Fears have a root in common sense. In survival instinct. Even peculiar ones, like trypophobia are an extreme version of an aversion that we have as a way of surviving. That's the fear of a pattern of holes by the by, particularly in food or familiar objects." He considers a little while longer. "If you do not realize that some of the feelings you have on a general basis -are- irrational, you wouldn't know you had a phobia, would you? It's the measure by contrast that tells you."

Rogue has posed:
"So, what, I just have to not be afraid that every time I touch someone it's going to kill them? Despite the fact that every time I touch someone it *could* kill them? It *has* killed someone. Incapacitated others. I...I can't...It's too risky.." Yet Rogue hates how she has to hide herself away. It's infuriating on so many levels. "They should write a book on how not to be a menace to society. I'd probably thrive if I read that..." It's a tease, but harsh in nature, and she watches Hank for a little while longer. "You also said a type of autophobia..." She considers this. "There's more than one?"

Beast has posed:
"Well, it's more a matter of degrees. ALmost everyone has at some point in their life, had a moment or two of autophobia. Normally, that's something sensible, like not wanting to walk home alone and feeling incredibly anxious that someone or something is following you... striking back to us being a vulnerable species without teeth or claws that wasn't particularly strong or fast, when there's just one of us in a dark night, we're easy pickings." Beast waves his hand a few times, dismissing that as being beside the point. "THat's beside the point!" See? Mister Obvious. "In your case, it may be rooted in perhaps an irrational feeling that your mother's disappearance and the way you were treated after she vanished, as being somehow your fault. Shunning, anthematic treatment, culminating in your power manifesting may have created an over-awing feeling like it's because you really -are- that deadly and dangerous. That there must have been something that you did, that drove your mother away. Keeping people at safe distance is in that scenario, an excuse for the fear that they might be right."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue listens and thinks on how Hank explains it for a moment before she gives a little shake of her head. "I mean....I guess that makes sense... but that's just a theory. How do we go about finding the actual root cause and coming up with a way to work around it? Cause that's the key right? Find the cause, then get a solution?" She doesn't really think she can trial and error this one...but there is a bit of hope in her gaze as she and Hank talk about this. Like maybe there's finally a crack in the shell that keeps her from being able to control her powers. Wouldn't it be nice if she could do so...

Beast has posed:
"Well, yes, because I can't delve on into your mind and prove said theory. Maybe the creature that sensed it in you could help? I don't know. I'm loathe to suggest going back to Sinister. However, I suppose... Jean or Emma could also help out, if you actually wanted to investigate it?" Hank ponders for a moment, puzzling over something. "I once fiddled around with a machine to capture dreams, but it didn't work."

Rogue has posed:
"Maybe. The creature said it's been with us for a very long time. It was kinda weird in a creepy but also comforting kind of way - if I'm being totally honest..." Rogue offers this and then shifts to lie back on the bed, letting out a puffed breath of air. "I'd go to Jean or Emma before I'd go to Sinister about something like this. He's already rooted around my head once...I think that's how he found the off switch. But I don't want to just turn it off only to have it randomly turn on again. I want to be able to control my powers. Live a somewhat... normal life... and not be...cooped up and away all the damn time."

Beast has posed:
"Understandable, and also logical." Beast sighs, looking over at the various things he set out and was working on. He stares at a couple of the devices for a few moments before looking back at her, soliciously. "Well, if it's based in fear, the idea would definitely be to investigate what in the fear response is triggering you. Maybe all that needs to be done is to establish exceptional trust, but doing such a thing would be exceptionally nerve-wracking in the first place. I'm not helping. I'll be quiet now."

Rogue has posed:
"And the only way to know what's triggering the fear response is to get inside my head and there's only a few who can do that..." Rogue says this much before sitting up and sliding off the table. She takes a step forward and reaches a gloved hand to rest on Hank's arm. "You're helping. More than you might think you are. You're getting all the thoughts moving around and brainstorming with me. I wouldn't be able to get near as where I am now if not for you." She smiles softly then. "Just one more reason why I love you."

Beast has posed:
Oh. Ooooooh. Oh my. "Oh, my." So good it had to be thought AND said. The L word. "Well." But he isn't moving or fussing at all, just sitting on his stool, looking her in the eye. "You're welcome." She loves me? Quantify the love, Hank. Figure out where you should be at. OH DANG, that's not the right thing to say to the L word is it? Noooooooo. "I mean, I like to be helpful, solving problems, being useful, not being a ...a...." He peeters off, trails down to nothing and offers like the ultimate wary end-stopped line of thought "You love me?"

Rogue has posed:
""Yes. You like to help. To fix things. To be there for people. You'll do anything and everything in your power for anyone else first - before yourself. You're genuine. You don't cut corners. Even if the news hurts..you give it..because that's just how you are. I mean, I could go on...but yes. I do. Love you, that is." Rogue offers with a smile and squeezes his arm. "You don't have to say it back. Not until you mean it. But, you deserve to know how I really feel about you yeah?" A pause. "I wonder if I should be hooked up to something if and when I can get Jean or Emma to poke around my brain. Who'd you think would be better for the job?" Quick, subject change, and go!

Beast has posed:
"Emma. A million times, Emma. She made a career out of being able to fish in the mind, extract what was necessary and psychically repair and replace memories and thoughts to her end. She's less selfish about it these days, mostly out of what I figure is a sense of survival and forward progress. But she'd be considerably less involved in caring if she hurt you and flailing about her own abilities than Jean. Bless her, but our Jeany is not terrifically stable." A quick, verbose, but honest answer out of Hank, he puts his big mitt over Rogue's hand on his arm, be'gloved as it is and squeezes. He also dips his face to the top of her head and whuffles there, doing much as he did with his claws-- physical contact that can be felt by head and the movement of hairs, but without endangering contact. "I know I care deeply about you. It is just new and I don't like to be duplicitous. I mean, I've been working on the side to figure out a way to protect you from physical contact, on a more versatile level. Mixed results, I'm afraid. I'm still working out how to modify tesla's theorums to electro-magnetic fields. But. We'll see how that goes."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue nods. "Emma then. I'll see if I can set some time aside with her to help me out. Seems like she's precisely the type of head digger I need to find out the depths of what's broken." There's a smile, and she makes a sound of amused pleasure when he whuffles her hair. "That's entirely fair. I don't want you to be deceptive either. Far from, and it's not in your nature anyway." A pause. "I can see how it'd be mixed results. I'm also sure that there might be steps we can take, slowly but surely. We'll work with Emma, and put a lot of things together to make a whole new Rogue that can face the day and cuddle with her boyfriend without worry." A blush then. "I mean, if I can call ya that anyway..."

Beast has posed:
"Well, you know I actually came up with a clever quasi solution for random cuddling!" Beast informs this, as he rises from his seat, going to one of the sets of draws and going down to the bottom one, opening it and withdrawing a white sheet. It's a half-sheet, about the size of a crib blanket and he lopes on back, tosses it ignominously over Rogue's head, but then is coming up to sit beside her on the bench, wrapping arms around her and pressing his cheek to her cheek beneath the fabric. It's very thin, by the by, the full heat of him can be felt and so can the fur, prickling through here and there. It sort of slithers down, but is still held by hair and the press of cheek. "High threadcount silk blanket." Squeeze. "Warm when it's cool, cool when it's hot, allows quite a bit of sensation between two people without actual contact." After one last squeeze, he pulls back, catches the blanket and folds it gently to set it aside. "I'm happy to be your gentleman caller, friend who is a man, bosom buddy who requires a small barrier et al."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue raises a brow as Hank informs that he has a solution for random cuddles. Then, there's a blanket between him and her, but it's enabled him to snuggle up close, cheek to cheek even. Nothing happens. He doesn't lose his hair, she doesn't suddenly have a brain filled with a mass of information. They just are. She nuzzles back against him for a moment, reveling in such a thing before he squeezes and then pulls back. "That was nice. We'll definitely have to use that on more occassions." The last of what he says causes her to think, and then she smiles. "Of course. Whatever you wish to be called. I just consider myself real lucky that you're open to anything with me at all."

Beast has posed:
"Silk. It's great," Beast pats the little folded nap of silk and smiles at her. "You're beautiful, sassy and clever. You like books, dancing to disney and getting thoroughly engaged in a good book. What's not to love?" He asks this, then one of his various pagers bleeps. "Oh drat..." going over there, he looks at it with a look of mild consternation. "I'm on call, sorry about this but I have to get to the mutant clinic. There's been a GSW." He grabs his white coat and his keys, kissing his palm and blowing it toward her. "Hopefully, I'll be back in a reasonable span of time." Apologetically, the doctor bows over one arm, then hustles out of the door. The life of an MD, who will treat Mutants.