14938/When Rogue goes...rogue.

When Rogue goes...rogue.
Date of Scene:	15 April 2023
Location:	Club Lux, Melville
Synopsis:	Rogue goes to Sinister for help after getting into a fight with the Juggernaut.
Cast of Characters:	Rogue, Sinister

---

Rogue has posed:
Rogue has broken out of the medbay, and out of the mansion has a whole. It's kinda perfect when most people live off site from the mansion itself that one can just...walk out the front door with no questions asked. Even if you're covered in bandages and have to leave with half-top on because you're still wrapped around the rib cage and any extra pressure hurts like hell.

So where does someone who doesn't want to be found go to when they're hiding from mutants who might be able to find her? To the one person who they were told to keep a wide berth of. And this brings Rogue to Lux, stepping in and at least looking half like she belongs there among the rest of the Friday night crowd.

Sinister has posed:
Well, maybe if it was halloween or costume night, which... well, there we go. It's a masquerade night, because those are ALWAYS popular -- there's cats chatting up devils (oh, wouldn't someone be tickled) bunnies having drinks with Avengers dudes and dudettes... so what's one battered up chick in the place?

Hi, I'm roadkill!

Sinister could be just about anyone in this crowd, honestly. But the bouncers let her in, one radio'ing a descriptor to someone or other on the end of the comm. And the bar as always, has a space somewhere at it...

Rogue has posed:
Rogue is glad that the bouncer lets her in without much of a fuss, and proceeds to make her way right to the horseshoe bar. She finds a place to sit that is almost lonely enough she won't be bothered by other people. A glance to the bartender and she smiles. "Gin an' tonic please, and thank you..."

Sinister has posed:
Drink enough and the pain will surely fade away, right? "First one's on the house, then so are the rest. You're on the list, miss," the barman sets an expertly made G&T within easy reach, on its own little mask-shaped coaster, nods and moves to serve someone else -- eyes are kept, but mostly for the empties. It's part of a good barman's job to know when someone -doesn't- want the company, too.

She'll be able to get through one at least, before a shadow falls across the top of her drink, wafting the scent of expensive cologne to her nose.

In his white shirt, red embroidered vest, black pants and clipped heels, he gazes down at her through rose-coloured shades. "Did you escape?"

Rogue has posed:
"By the skin of my teeth..." Rogue offers this much as her nose squenches some from the fresh scent of expensive cologne. Then she glances over and smiles up at the standing Sinister. "How fares your night? Seems I came at the right time. Seems like the sort of party where one doesn't have to get all dressed up to come out to." She smiles again and is served a fresh G&T right about that time.

Sinister has posed:
"Depends on who you are, I suppose--" Sinister replies with a glance around the crowd, lingering person to person at who they chose to be, who they hid as, for the evening's entertainment. Who they no longer are, except beneath it all. "--Overall, there have been worse nights in the course of history. I'd call this one... mild. Uneventful, so far." He looks back at her, then pointedly at the bandages.

Rogue has posed:
"I would argue that there will always be worse nights in history or future times than the current ones being had." Rogue offers this much as she takes up her new glass and takes a strong sip from it. Of course she notices the look at her bandages and as she swallows her drink she thinks on things. "Juggernaut turned me into a crater. Scott went on a bender about things last night. Like who we can and can't trust as if his opinion matters above all others. So now I'm here, and I don't really wanna go back. First person I thought could hide me best is you."

Sinister has posed:
"That has to hurt if you move wrong. Or turn too quickly. Or just breathe in a way your ribs don't like..." Sinister clucks his tongue, looking away from her to the dance floor, measuring out a frown by increments of tiny lines between his brows. They grow as the brows lower. "I am quite adept at not being found, when I have no desire to be. Elsewise, they would have put a stop to me by now." He tucks his hands into the small of his back, left in right, back to palm. "Xavier's army and he, the little napoleon --" he tilts his head, the reflection of the disco lights mirrored on his glasses. "--Is this a permanent thing, or just until you chill your heels?"

Rogue has posed:
Rogue shrugs her shoulders some. "It hurt worse before they started healing. And Wolverine is beng an asshat about sharing his healing powers with me." Which is part joke but also true. Cause everyone - even her boyfriend - is scare of her losing control of her powers. "Just until heels are chilled. I mean... I'm just so pissed off at Scott and how he thinks he's the greatest gift the X-Men ever received. He's not. Egotistical snot." She scoffs then. "I just couldn't be in the mansion. It happens when I get upset. But I also can't travel very far because of..." And she motions to her bandages.

Sinister has posed:
Sinister looks over his shoulder, the corner of his eye visible as he listens to what she says there. A snort, oh-so-soft, follows the assessment. "Egotistical snot, my word. Fear is a terrible, terrible thing, isn't it? Come." He walks up the stairs, toward the more private areas of the club, the VIP lounge, booths, sky-high view of all that lies beneath.

His steps take him to an alcove that's almost entirely 'private' up there in the gods, pausing beside it to look back and check he's not alone.

Rogue has posed:
"It's not fear..." Rogue begins and then Sinister is moving away and so she grabs her drink and gets up to follow him. Upstairs, and to the alcove where he's leading her to. The place definitely screams private but she's a little confused. "Not sure I can sleep here comfortably for a few days, but it looks like a nice enough spot to lay low for a bit." Then she downs the rest of her glass and looks Sinister over a moment. "Figure you'd appreciate the random upset at Summers..."

Sinister has posed:
"Oh, this isn't for sleeping in. Just not being interrupted in." As there's unspoken rules about the 'private' booths up here. Enter at your own risk? Occasionally, you might get more of an eyeful than you intented to get. With a gesture to the seating, Sin sits opposite, looks at her squarely and proffers his bare hand.

Rogue has posed:
Rogue shifts to take the seat across from him, tilting her head as he proffers his bare hand. Her gaze shifts upwards towards him and it would look like - for a moment - she's going to protest. Yet, surprisingly, she doesn't and instead she removes one of her gloves, takes a slow breath and reaches to touch that offered, bare hand. There's nothing for a moment, and then there's a tingle, then a sort of shock and Rogue moves to brace herself against the table. It takes another moment for her to break contact and then she keeps herself braced and...mostly breathing.

Sinister has posed:
Strength of will and strength of mind can be a blissful thing sometimes; to shield those places that are vulnerable, in the face of biometric absorption and vampirism. Even still, his jaw grits and small, recent slights and insults to his physical self become more livid and pronounced; bruises that ought to have happened and didn't, now do. And when ended, he leans back and braces his spine against the back of the seat -- "...you shouldn't have got a flash of me in mind with that, if I did it right. How do you feel?" Moments, recovering the energies that repair at breakneck speed, he looks to recover swiftly.

Rogue has posed:
"I didn't..." Rogue assures the man across from her. "Just...you're a hell of a mutant...powerful. I felt that..." Though she gives herself a wiggle, and then unwraps the bandages on her arm to reveal nary a gash or bruise to be found. "I feel a lot better...physically...I still think Summers is a jerk..." She leans back into the chair she's sitting on and then smirks. "Thanks, Sinister. I appreciate it. But can you also hide me for a few days?"

Sinister has posed:
There's a loft of an eyebrow and a small, wry smile with the observation and he tips his imaginary hat toward her. There might have been something that would have slipped out in a previous time at this juncture, but now? Now he keeps his own council "Yes. There's a rather sumptuous five star hotel attached to this night club, which is -also- owned by the host..." gesturing toward the casino side, there's the access to the concierge desk and check-in. "Most of the suites have everything you could imagine, plus a few extras, including some significant warding."

Rogue has posed:
"And I assume that's all gonna be covered too? Cause I'm apparently on some kind'a list where I ain't gotta pay for my drinks." Rogue puts that out there for the moment and then gives a little grin. "I mean, I can't promise I won't go a little crazy and treat myself a bit, but I can promise that I will not go a lot of crazy and take every little advantage." This with a grin. "And I may steal a towel. And the little toiletries..."

Sinister has posed:
Sinister laughs softly. "Just don't go bananas with the mini-bar, it's not worth it. Better to come down and get a bottle of whatever you wanted and whatever mixers to take up with you. Those little fiddly bottles seem utterly pointless to me, other than as a novelty..." the englishman leans forward just a little and with a crackle and pop, the wings emerge with a snap, proving that he has a few things in common with a bowl of rice krispies. This is apparently so that he can cushion his back and support himself with an extra buffer -- recovered, but still drained! "...And once you've done so, you can order your clothing repaired and laundered and hang around in the courtesy bathrobe and slippers if you want to. The chefs down here are pretty good, although it's mostly just bar snacks. That obligatory high fat offering if you're going to do drinks, just to keep your license."

And quietly now. "Summers -is- an ass. He has been for quite a while now. It irks me, on a deep level."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue grins. "I don't ever really drink that much anyway...I'd be more into pampering myself....and who doesn't love bar food while just sitting around watching television or somethin'..." She doesn't mention anything about getting her clothing repaired or laundered, but she will tuck it in the back of her mind. At the tail end of that, hearing Sinister talk about Summers, she grins. "See. This is why I like you. You're blunt, honest, and give no fucks about who thinks what about you..."

Sinister has posed:
"Me? Honest? Surely not. I hear tell that I'm a duplicitous, sneaky bastard that will manipulate you into a corner and you'll never see it coming. I dislike that though, I'm not a liar, I never have been. Most just don't like to -hear- my truths -- and I have been known to catch myself monologuing, which is very, very annoying when it happens." Nose-twitch, sniff, imperious gaze down the nose aaaaand twitch of a smile. "Darling, you don't need to tell me about pampering either. A girl has to look her best sometimes, even if it's only for herself. I do love a good mani-pedi. Keep those cuticles trimmed and clean, all that jazz."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue rolls her eyes. "If I believed that I wouldn't be here right now. I also wouldn't have argued with Logan the points of you actually being a good therapist or me.." She says this much and then flushes. "Okay, maybe a mani-pedi would be nice. I might treat myself to one..." There's a pause and then she smiles once more. "Thanks, Sinister. I think I might actually owe you for this one."

Sinister has posed:
Sinister bows his head slowly, a nod of acceptance. He does however, give a wry little chuckle. "You actually argued with the Canuck about my merits in psychiatric practice?" he rejoins, with a cluck of the tongue. "Oh to have been a fly on the wall for that one..." pushing up with his wings, he reaches into his waistcoat, sets a silver cigarette case on the table and a lighter from the other pocket, calling a waitress over for an ashtray. The case is popped open, ladies first gestured with a spread of fingers and he leans to the side a little. "Girly fruity drink for me, with an extra kick of rum."

Rogue has posed:
"Had to. He wasn't happy that I was actually seeing you on any sort of regular, pseudo-formal instance. Once I explained to him the benefits of actually seeing you have been, he relented. A little." Rogue explains this while reaching for the cigarette case to pluck one of those lovely cylindrical pleasure devices from. As the waitress comes over she smiles. "Make that two. Tho. I should probably go check in and get a room for myself. Have a sleep. Pretend the pillows are Summers' stupid face."

Sinister has posed:
"Ahhh, I see. Challenging, I'm sure, to justify to the ultimately wary. And you know, you can always take the drink to go and find a delectable comfort in thine yonder bower, complete with irksome individual punching bag a'la pillow--" Sinister takes his own cigarette, lights it after and indulges it for a few long drags as refreshments are brought. "Or I could make the decision a little easier by going to recoup my energies with a spot of meditation -- and my dear? /Indulge/. You only live the once, unless you're very unfortunate, or have a pathological allergy to staying deceased. Sweet dreams when you have decimated imaginary Scott for a while, hmm?" He rises, manages after the second shrug attempt to get the wings to go away and only -then- leaves the booth, trailing cigarette smoke and aiming to intercept his cocktail on the way to getting lost in the crowds.