14734/The Silver-tongue Angel and Southern Devil

The Silver-tongue Angel and Southern Devil
Date of Scene:	26 February 2023
Location:	Golf Club, Pine Ridge - Westchester
Synopsis:	Warren and Rogue play golf! Or something like that...
Cast of Characters:	Rogue, Archangel

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Rogue has posed:
Of all the people in the circles Rogue runs in, the last person she thought woul give her the time of day is Warren Worthington. Yet, here she is, flying up to a fancy golf range feeling terrified and also curious as to why he'd even invite her to a place like this and...why she agreed to come to begin with. None the less, she figures it's not as weird as mustering a friendship of sorts with Mister Sinister so as she lands a bit out of the way, she takes a peek around the club and then proceeds to walk in. For the moment, she's wearing jeans, a loose fitting green blouse, and black golf gloves on both hands. Her hair, all auburn save for that one white streak, is pulled back into a ponytail and she looks a bit lost as she perhaps sees if Warren's in the lobby waiting for her or if she'll have to hunt him down.

Archangel has posed:
Warren Worthington was in the changing room. He was a member at the club. And one does not generally golf in the same attire they might walk around all day in; especially Warren. When he emerged, he was sporting a coral colored polo shirt, the top two buttons undone, black leather belt, and dark gray trousers, with black golfing shoes. His hair was nicely styled, with part of it going up and to his right in the front. He had invited Rogue to play golf, as he was trying to get to know some of his teammates better. He knew the originals, having grown up with them, but some, like Rogue, he knew, but only so much. Besides, he thought she might like it. Approaching, he gave a warm smile, and clapped his hands together, "so, first time golfing? Why don't we get you something more appropriate from the gift shop, shall we? Oh, I wouldn't mind, but the club, they have certain rules. One of them is that jeans aren't allowed on the course."

Rogue has posed:
"So what yer sayin' is I shoulda just stuck with the latex suit, yeah?" Rogue offers in that Mississippi accent she's never been able to get rid of. "Yeah, first time golfing. Ain't like it's a regular sport where I grew up..." She smiles though and then eyes the gift shop a moment. "You might have to give me a few tips and tricks out on the course...but I reckon you won't mind that a bit. So, clothing first. Whatever you recommend, but I'd appreciate if it were pants and not shorts...cause I ain't got nothin' coverin' my skin..."

Archangel has posed:
"Latex, I thought it was cloth, like those Lulu Lemon leggings. I guess I've never examined it too closely." He enjoyed her accent, it was charming. Though he spoke with a transatlantic accent, like the actor David Odgen Stiers was known to adopt for roles, like Charles Emerson Winchester III on M*A*S*H. Not that there was any coincidence with Warren having a III in his name. "Not a problem, I'll give you all the golfing advice you need." He may have a reputation as a snob, but he was a genuinely decent guy at his core. He was just rich and used to all that it entails. Leading her into the pro shop, he would head to women's clothing, gesturing to a few, "pants, not as popular on the course, but certainly doable." Of course, while golfing, there was a huge amount of social distancing, "you know that golf isn't like a rave, right? There's very little chance of skin to skin contact, unless people want it." One mannequin had a nice white golf visor, white v-neck blouse with black collar, as well as circles around the arm, and that mannequin wore black leggins. Next to it, there were piles of each garment, in various sizes. There was also a changing room nearby. The pro shop sold clubs, souvenirs, clothes, really, anything you might want. Even drinks and snacks.

Rogue has posed:
"That may be true, Mister Worthington, but it ain't like me to take chances. I've been workin' on things a bit, but nothin' is perfect...and I'd rather be safe than sorry." Rogue offers while walking aside the man, and as they find the women's clothing she looks over a few pieces before quickly picking out grey leggings, a white v-neck blouse and even the visor. "I'll pull the tags so we can pay for stuff...let me go change real quick..." Of which she'll make quick work, but it will still take a moment to change and she pops into a changing room to do just that.

Archangel has posed:
"Oh, please, call me Warren." Which briefly made him think how he still did not know her name. But he didn't mean to pry. If she wanted to be known as Rogue, that was perfectly fine with him. It was a unique and catchy name, full of mystery and intrigue. It suited her. "How is that going, by the way?" Okay, so he pried a little bit. But she brought it up. While she was in the changing room, he hung around outside. Vain man that he is, he checked himself out in the mirror, though there was something beyond vanity. He was checking how his back looked. He was always worried about his wings. They could fold back in enough that he could pass while wearing a simple polo shirt, as he was now, but he was always worried that they would become visible. His back, at least in the mirror, looked completely normal. He breathed a sigh of relief.

Rogue has posed:
"Oh it's alright. Hank made something I can use as like a foundation to cover my skin and I use it when I'm going out." Rogue offers this and then has disappeared into the dressing room. She comes out in the change of clothing, grey leggins, v-neck, and ponytail pulle through so the visor sits nicely on her head. She promptly hands over all the tags from the clothes and gives a smile before spreading her arms out a bit and turning one way, then the other. "What do you think?" Still wearing the black golf gloves. At least she got those right.

Archangel has posed:
"Will wonders never cease," he replies. They now make a topical ointment that guards against accidental human contact. Going clothes shopping with a woman was sometimes difficult for a guy. It was boring. They had to carry bags. It was not really something they wanted to do. But every once in a while, they might just get the chance to see a woman like Rogue wear an outfit like that. His mouth hung open a little longer than he had intended. Even as she was handing over the tags, he was collecting his thoughts. Finally, he said, "I think you chose one size too small across the board on purpose."

Rogue has posed:
"One size too small means more form fitting...and you can't tell me you're complaining about the image." Rogue offers. "You keep yer mouth open any longer, ya might attract flies..." She reaches a hand up to actually push up on his chin and then makes towards the checkout counter. "Don't suppose I could just rent a set of clubs or something? Use yours maybe? I ain't really gonna come here enough times to make sense I buy clubs and such of my own just yet."

Archangel has posed:
"Well, it does stretch nicely." He had to admit. And his mouth was hanging agape. She even reached up to push it closed with her gloved hand. It was nice and tender, even if a bit funny. He was smiling. "Careful there, you just might attract some things yourself, Rogue." Most golf clubs allowed people to rent them, but Warren decided not to mention that. Instead, he led her towards the clubs, where an employee approached, but Warren waved him off, instead, picking up a club, a 7 iron, holding it up to Rogue, eyeing how it would look against her, "why don't you try a few practice swings with this." They had a set up where you could hit a ball against a virtual tarp, basically a projected video, which would measure speed, distance, and the like. He would explain the stance, showing, and also helping, gloved hands going to her hips, "no, a bit back, like this, yeah."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue gives a little grin and then shrugs her shoulers haphazardly. "There are worse things that could happen..." Admitting this before he's showing her the clubs, handing her a 7 iron and they go try a few practice swings. She's horrible at it, all but missing the ball the first few times before feeling hands on hips and letting him help position her just so. "Why, Mister Worthington...if I didn't know any better I'd think you were actually flirting with me..." A little wiggle of hips given as she takes a new swing connecting with the ball and letting it fly into the tarp.

Archangel has posed:
He knew how Rogue's powers worked, was under the impression she could not control them, but she had said that she was wearing some kind of makeup, foundation, or spray, whatever it was, that made it safe to touch. Still, he was tentative about such things, knowing the drawbacks. She was bare sleeved, and so was he. But other than that, they were both covered up. So the hand to her legging clad hip was fine. He would touch her bare elbow with his gloved hand during one swing, "you need to lift this up, a little, but keep your knees bent, and uh, ass out. Trust me, it's part of the swing mechanics." After a few more intimate teaching touches, he would step back, and see if it improved her swing.

Rogue has posed:
Rogue fixes her stance according to how Warren assists her in doing so. Yes, she even sticks her ass out a bit and takes another swing. "And this is done, over and over. With different clubs an' such...for 18 holes?" She then turns around to face him, close but still not touching and she takes a breath when she realizes just how close they really are. "Seems kinda boring, if I'm being honest...but I got a cute outfit out of it so might as well see it through..." There's a tilt of her head then. "You didn't comment on the flirting bit...is that you admittin' to such maybe?"

Archangel has posed:
He watched her. She was getting better. Still a novice, but Rogue had heightened coordination. It was one of her powers. So she had a natural advantage. And she could snap that club like a twinky if she wanted to. "Golf is about testing yourself, against yourself. It's relaxing, you get plenty of fresh air, exercise, beautiful scenery, while trying to achieve a task." Holding up one of the balls, even as she now came within his comfort zone. He didn't back away. He could feel her breath against his skin. "All we have to do, is find a way to get this," he toyed with the ball, "into an itty bitty hole. I've always found such things to be their own reward." And he still hadn't commented on the flirting bit. Even knowing her powers would likely kill him if not for that cream or whatever on her arms.

Rogue has posed:
"What is it with men and their obsession with tryin' to fit things into holes? Shouldn't that come naturally to you?" Rogue offers with a giggle and then her green eyes lift up to find Warren's own. They linger there for a moment before she catches herself on a thought and takes a step back from him. "Anyway...maybe it's time we go onto the course proper and see just how badly I do, eh? 'Sides, I got you to help me out when I need it so it should be all good right?" Everything else pushed to the side cause Rogue has to keep telling herself she can't. Even if, technically, she could.

Archangel has posed:
"Golf, basketball, football, hockey, pretty much every sport is about something roundish going into one opening, or another. Tennis isn't, so I guess there's that. He held that gaze with his own blue eyes, curious what she was trying to do. He knew she was a flirt, but hadn't ever been subjected to so much of it at once. He should have invited her to golf a long time ago. "Sounds like a plan." He would pick up the clubs, sliding them into a bag, which was new. He had the tags from her clothes in his pocket for now. "Though, you do need to pick out some tees... and of course, balls, first."

Rogue has posed:
"Well considerin' the ones between your legs, assuming they're still there, are also a bit delicate...I guess I can pick out some others..." Rogue says this much and then turns to head towards the Wall of Balls. "You don't have to be as careful as you're being. I'm protected in more ways than one. Knowing you and I are hanging out and such...I'm actually in control of my power. The one that everyone fears me for... I've been working on it, and I'm actually getting pretty good." She says this as she grabs a box of Titleist Pro golf balls from the shelf.

Archangel has posed:
Well, wasn't that quite the one two punch. First the reference to what was between his legs, and then allusion to her being in control of her powers. "So, if I'm hearing that right, then I might be able to touch, some skin, where you haven't applied Hank's new miracle cream, without, passing out on the floor?" He didn't mean to make light of her powers, but she was being extremely flirtatious, and he was trying to gauge how much of it was flirting, and how much of it was true. He followed her this time, heading to the wall of balls, with a variety of colors, brands, though, they all more or less had the exact same shape. It was what was inside that was the difference.

Rogue has posed:
Rogue nods. "That's what I am implying. Still need to be careful. But maybe some day I can actually live my life like a somewhat normal person." Rogue quips at that, looks at the box of balls and tees in her hand and then turns to Warren with a smile. "Alright. Now how about you show me just how relaxin' it can be tryin' to put balls into holes."