Owner	Pose
Rogue	Rogue hasn't been seen since the early afternoon hours when she was rescuing one Jeremy Statton from drowning in the lake just off from the school. She had to give the student mouth to mouth CPR to save him, but the aftermath of that is she doesn't have anything to keep others protected from her lips. So her powers activated, whether she wanted them to or not, and ever since then she's been hiding in her room sort of trying to get used to all the new things she was experiencing since that moment. It's weird experiencing the mind of a technomaster, even more so when it came with all the memories. Those flashes of his past. She had to try and push that aside too. Now it's early evening - or perhaps mid evening - and Rogue has finally dared to come down from her room and slip into the kitchen. She's thirsty, and there's a pitcher of sweet tea in the fridge calling her name. Or...wait. The fridge is *literally* calling her name. In her head. She blinks, and then she shakes her head and begins to open the door to pull out the pitcher. "Oh that's just rude!" She says it aloud and then sort of gasps before looking around - suddenly paranoid someone might have heard. "..Oh dear.."
Henry McCoy	Henry McCoy is a man on the hunt. He heard, oh yes. There is a calling card with Jeremy's name on it too, as he does act as mentor to the young man. He nevertheless acts as a different kind of support structure for Rogue -- and the Beast can get her vibe, quite well. Most of the time. Maybe not today, but it might work out far better than supposed, given uh... he vibes with both individuals currently occupying her head! You never know. "It might be better to go through an interpreter, Anna-Marie," his voice calls from the door. "Jeremy uses his phone. He seems to have a good working relationship with her --" he peers around the edge, sidling into the kitchen looking purple, owing to a lot of calomine and with SHORT fur. And a human nose. It'll take a bit of getting used to, again. "I find it fascinating to think that my calculator has a personality, but given how often I've talked at my machines when I'm trying to get them to do what I want them to, it stands to a kind of reason."
Rogue	"It's hard enough getting used to everything. How does he live with all this inside his head? It's madness..." Rogue says, then pauses and winces. "Okay, not madness. Jeremy's not, like, insane... but... it's just so busy. Noisy." Then she thinks on it while moving to pour some tea into a glass. Ears flicking just a bit. There's more voice going on in her head and she glances back to the toaster but she doesn't say anything aloud. The pitcher is placed back into the fridge and she goes to claim her glass, taking a drink. "You're looking like you're doing better, Hank." She offers. Trying to get her mind away from the talking appliances behind her. 'That little hussy thinks she all fine and stuff cause you reachin' in her like she got all you need.' ....oh gods. This *has* to be what going mad feels like. (-Simon Tam, Firefly) Otherwise, she looks to McCoy and smiles. "Also, hi. How are you?"
Henry McCoy	Henry McCoy heads over to Rogue, making to give her a squeeze on the shoulder with one meaty mitt, with clothing DEFINITELY in the way. "I think this is partially why human beings are an extraneous and superfluous voice in the cacophany. Mind, you, of all people... not that I've ever been inside your head but..." he shrugs, does the exaggerated wince with a glance to the side "...you at least know what it's like to have extra voices in your head that aren't you. They're probably not this talkative though." He squeezes one more time and pats, steps back to giver her, her space and looks to the fridge. "I'm going in. Wish me luck. There's a tandoori chicken sandwich wrap with my name on it and I am not taking no for an answer." He opens the door. It's very anticlimactic from his perspective, but who knows what SHE is hearing. "I've been through worse, I suppose. Not a fan of being shot though... it's mostly the regrowth that's bothering me. And the fact I gravely miscalculated mass. You know those moments where you're kicking yourself because you failed a very complicated equation to amplify your clobbering factor and it bit you in the bum." He points at his heinie. "Never live it down. I'll be kicking myself for years. OR at least until my fur regrows, because aaaaaaaaaaaaaaugh."
Rogue	Rogue accepts the hand on her shoulder, and gives Beast a nod of her head. "Well, from that view, yer right. I've had voices, hell, I've had /personalities/ in my head - some of them taking over. But also, no, not to this degree. Not to the point it's like they're fightin' for attention or something." Then she smirks. "It's interesting. I think it'll maybe even help in the long run. To know what really might be goin' on in Jeremy's head. He's a sweet kid." She offers this and then watches as Hank steps back and looks to the fridge. It's not the fridge that she hears. This voice is a bit more sassy, and almost sounds...jealous? Everyone gives the fridge all their attention, and no one really bothers with her. Her? She glances over to the toaster oven and then shakes her head. Now it makes sense. The last time she saw Jeremy in the kitchen was during breakfast, he sort of gave attention to the toaster...maybe to make her...feel better? It's endearing but it's also WEIRD - at least to someone who's never experiened it before. "Seein' as how I don't do equations in my head, I'm going to have to say...no. I don't know. But I think I can manage your point.." She lifts her glass to take a sip of tea and then shifts to lean back against the counter. "Was worried about you...I'm glad Kurt grabbed you when he did...cause I had to go and save Psylocke from gettin' crushed by a container full'a kids..." It was chaotic. So many things lately have been just chaos. "...I need a splash of normal..." It's muttered, aloud, to no one...or so she figures.
Henry McCoy	Henry McCoy has removed his tikka wrap. ANd then, lo and behold, he holds up his finger to Rogue, half-winks and moves over to the toaster, placing the roll in the specified slot -- just about 45 seconds to toast the outside and he pops up the lever. Hopefully that made some peace in Rogue's head. He plates it, takes out a bit of rabbit food from a crisper and goes to lean against the counter opposite her. "I reckon you're right. He's a hard nut to comprehend, because it's very hard to comprehend that you have to tune out humanity for the sake of our endless love-affair with technology. The smarter the better, for our convenience laced lives. No wonder he's a recluse, really." Cutting the wrap in half, he lifts half in a silent toast to toaster, THEN fridge and lastly Rogue. Honestly, it's all an act, but maybe that act helps. "I agree though. Lately has felt like the railings are far away and we're carreening down the track, blind. I don't know why, it's not as if the sky is falling, but it sure does feel like things are mildly out of control. You have any theories?"
Rogue	It seems to calm things down - at least for the moment - but maybe Rogue isn't wanting to take any more chances. "There are less things in the dining room. Or even out on the porch. It's a nice evening. Think your wrap can handle sitting outside?" Then she looks to her tea and chuckles. "If you even want to go outside. Actually I'm really more of a mind to just trudge back up to my room. It's...loud." It's not just the appliances either. It's anything remotely electronic that's wired into a connection with a cell tower, or an internet router. She's likely only getting a smidge of what really goes on in the technophile's mind. "Theories? Not really. I just decided I need to roll with the punches. Like goin' out to help with them kids? That was likely somethin' they wanted..." She stops. Beast had been there. So had Nightcrawler. Dani. Psylocke. She needed to word things better. "I got nothin'. Just seems like every step taken or corner turned something rears it's ugly head. I'd like to turn a corner and just have nice for a bit..." Repeating herself and then she lifts a hand and rubs at her forehead. "Maybe I just need to lay down...sleep might not come easy tonight."
Henry McCoy	"Assuredly," regarding taking his wrap on the porch, he can do that, can Hank. A quick saunter, with but a bit of a pause to get mint yoghurt dip for the wrap, the evening is exquisite at least. Out there, he leans his body toward her, as an aside. "About ten to fifteen kilometers north west, there's a lodge which gets used from time to time. Westchester is just inside of cellphone tower range, because guess what, we're rich. But just a bit further --" he smiles and looks down at the yoghurt, dipping the wrap "-- it first got discovered in france; a couple of women had an issue with the background noise of technology on the brain. The official term for it is electromagnetic hypersensitivity. It doesn't do justice, but you'd get a peaceful night's sleep in the cabin, if you have a moment to gather your stuff; yelling machinery isn't the same as electromagnetic brain interferance, but it never is with mutation." He rattles off the ACTUAL coordinates and landmarks, looking at her with empathy, not sympathy. He munches for a while. "I am not sure if we're just playing catch-up or not. Cloak and Dagger's mission seems to be a lot of reaction -- I don't know that I'm giving it credit, but they don't have the resources we have. I think we need to be proactive. If we're going to help, we need to trace the source, push beyond just reaction to action." He looks at her, looks away. "I have high-end tanning booth on order. Just so as you know."
Rogue	Rogue sets out to the porch with Hank, standing there and listening - or trying to listen - to the sounds of the night. It's all gone though. There are no cicadas, no crickets. There's buzzing, from the cell towers and devices likely being used. She doesn't have the line of sight to see or hear anything specific, so it's all just a mess in her head. When Hank speaks of a place she can go, to get away from most of the noise, and likely get a decent night's sleep, she smiles. "I want to talk to Jeremy tomorrow. I meant to find him tonight but just got trapped in all this.." She waves a hand over her head. "But I might go to this cabin. It sounds nice." Then she pauses. "He freaked out when his phone died. I think it died cause of water damage. So there has to be a method of finding peace amongst the noise...but I don't really need it cause it will fade in a couple days from my head..." Couple days? Maybe a week? It depends on how much she really got with several brief touches during the CPR she gave. A breath. "I try to be really careful and not use my powers. I didn't mean for anything to happen...but if I hadn't done it..." She silences herself by downing sweet tea.
Henry McCoy	"Yes," all that's needed there. Can't say more. Beast nods though, looking up at the night sky, with his wrap devoured in record time. He stands, his plate held in grasp, because he must brave the dishwasher and doesn't currently want to wake it up. "He'd likely appreciate it. We're going to suggest strongly that swimming lessons are in order. He might be able to help you -- as I noted he had a good working relationship with his phone. Mind, he should be able to ressurrect her with a transplant of SIMcard, a'la Dracula." Yes, imagine the dust of a forebear phone in a grand ritual. It might be necessary. He nods to her. "Go get rest. Tomorrow is going to be tough, because it /always/ is. But there's hope. I need to get with Jean, for the late-into-the-night session of What to do with Deadpool. Anyone would think Scott hated me, but... we're going to see if we can help him, properly. Be well. You need me, just call Anna-Marie." He nods to that, smiles warm and heads to rest his regenerative skills. He can't regrow, he can only mend, so that gunshot to the lung is sensitive still.