Owner	Pose
Sinister	Wednesday night. Fair of Face, full of Grace, but no no no, we are full of woe. Well, not so much in Club Evolution, but it is a quiet night, because Wodin'stag is sloooooow. Except for students playing hooky or the like. But the music's still playing, a session band filling the midweek, student pints for those that ARE out... And an odd little crowd. There's one particular figure that's set a few tongues a wagging and heads a'turning, just because he's extremely tall-dark-handsome attractive. And he's not sitting, or eating, or doing anything other than drinking and watching, occasionally tapping his foot to the beat. Seven is in the house, six foot two, black wavy hair, deep blue eyes, devil may care smirk, stubble artfully kept and dressed all in black with a leather trench that looks strangely familiar...as does the man himself. There's just something about him that says he's a known entity.
Rogue	Rogue is usually here to work. Tonight she's here to drink. It's not very often that Rogue goes out of her way to visit Club Evolution, but even when she's not ON duty, she is always on guard. This is where mutants come to play, to get out and live a little. And while the world has gotten more and more accepting of their kind...some just can't get it through their thick skulls that they're here to stay. So she comes up to the bar, hair down in crimson waves with that one silver streak. She's got on leather pants, a tee shirt, leather boots, and has a cigarette dangling out the corner of her mouth as she slides into a stool one down from the Tall Drink of Water. "'Ey, Kent. Pour me a round of whiskey, an' this time try'n not lemme go dry, yeah?"
Sinister	The Tall Drink, so nicknamed, turns his head just enough to look over his cheekbones at her, sucking in on his own smoke deeply, then leans an elbow on the bar behind himself and shifts just enough that he's at right angles, facing out toward the dance floor. "You may as well just ask for the bottle, it's probably more effective," he murmurs, grins in a wry manner that niggles at memories and cocks his head. "I'd say penny for your thoughts, but I think I'd have to get an entire dollar's worth. Maybe even a benjamin or two."
Rogue	"Well that would deprive the rest of the bar of a pretty decent bottle..." Rogue offers to the man, looking over to him with a single lofted brow because he looks /just/ this side of familiar. She even opens her mouth as if to say something and then shakes her head slightly. "And who's to say yer worthy of even a penny of my thoughts, let alone a benjamin? Go find someone else cryin' into their drink, cause that ain't my deal sugah..."
Sinister	Seven chuckles, a rich, wicked sounding little thing. "Touche, touche..." another drag of his cigarette is taken, this time blown up toward the ceiling, where it snakes along like a river of cancerous fog. He watches it a long moment. "I'm pretty sure I'm not after that, anyway. Frankly, if I was, I think half the bar has undressed me with their eyes already and the rest are plotting my invariable demise..." he clucks his tongue. "Got off on the wrong foot there, I think." He looks at her more squarely. "If you're drinking and keeping it coming, well..." a pause and he proffers a hand. "You don't know me. I know you though. One thing I have to say about you, my dear Rogue, is you're a survivor. I've found you in a dozen and more alternate ending scenarios and probably there are more." He smiles, looks up at one of the stagelights a moment and the inferno shows in the deeps of his eyes. "At a disadvantage, that's poor manners..." he clucks his tongue "...you can call me Seven. Did Essex get around to working out how you can help with his gizmo, yet?"
Rogue	"You sure are full of yerself, ain't ya? I already told ya..." Rogue goes to put up her verbal dukes, but as Seven keeps talking, she stumbles over some of her words. It's odd, really, as she's a natural flirt but in this moment something might be tickling her darker side - or something like that. There's a pause as the man continues and a brow raises while she glances back around the room. Is she being punk'd? Played with? It's hard to tell. "I...I suppose that is something someone can say about me. And no. Well... not really. I think he means to use my actual ability...but we haven't really sat down to work out the skinny details of it.." Admitting this much before she turns more towards him, taking a drag off her cigarette and blowing her own stream of smoke toward the ceiling. "That's why you feel familiar... Seven is your name? Why do you come off with some of the same energy as Nathaniel?"
Sinister	"Well, it's a long story. Short-short version: Sinister makes mistakes. Sometimes, they end up not being recoverable. He tried to find immortality in the genes of a Celestial being, screwed up in an infinitessimally small manner and burned himself up in hellfire. So now," Seven taps the side of his head "...he's in here." He stubs his smoke out on his hand, looks fleetingly at it and it burns up in an instant. Nothing untoward in mutant town, except that Hellfire is very distinctive. He grins at it, then at Rogue, only to sober up after a short sigh. "I had vague hopes you were going to be here in one form or another, actually. I wanted to meet you. I've managed to fail at that a few times, simply because you've been rather preoccupied at the various instances. I gave him the thought, I don't think he's worked it all out yet, or well..." he shrugs with a smirk "...maybe he's just gone thought adjacent. I know what he's like."
Rogue	"Celestial being? But the celestial being that Nathaniel is with is Luci..." Then Rogue watches as the man next to her puts the cigarette out in his hand. Nothing too fancy. But when it burns up in hellfire - that gets her attention. "..fer. You-you're Lucifer? But also Nathaniel....cause he's...in your mind..." She seems to try to work that one out for a moment before shaking her head. "Why, of all the people in this world, and all the other worlds that potentially exists, with all the other me's in them... have you wanted to meet me? In any of them. I'm nothing. A nobody. My powers only ever hurt people until I could control 'em...and even then sometimes I still ain't got it all covered...ain't a thing special about me." Then she grins. "You are pretty hot tho... ain't gonna lie... Nathaniel was right."
Sinister	"In all senses of the word, I'm sure." With a flash of the eyebrows and the devil's own smile, the fires flicker oh-so-brief in his gaze. Seven lifts a hand to the barman then, nodding at the whiskey. "For both of us," he notes, with a sly sidelong at her. "The one and only, yes. Indeed. With a telepathic doctor in my head. The conversations I can have with myself," he clucks his tongue again. Ankles cross and he watches her askew a moment or two, then again he taps the side of his head. "He mentions you. In my alternate ending and in less final destination..." indicating the bar and probably the world with a round-about of his gaze. "He seemed to think there are things we have in common. I'm inclined to think perhaps he was right about one or two of those."
Rogue	"Suppose it's the telepathic doctor in your head that keeps you from getting your worldly pleasures even when people are - indeed - undressing you without care or candor." Rogue says this and then looks to her glass which is refilled upon Seven's request. She finishes her cigarette, putting it out on the ashtray in front of them. "I can only imagine the conversations you have... Nathaniel is the type who can hold them for days without end. And I say that with all the sincereness in my heart." Things they have in common? What could she possibly have in common with the Devil himself? "Your Nathaniel must be a few scoops shy of a sundae... I doubt there's anything we have in common unless you've killed a man, stolen someone's powers, effectively putting them into a coma for an extended period of time. Joined a cult with your other mother, only to be used and abused by her then saved - using the term loosely - by a mutant set out to try and get humans and mutants to co-exist in peace and harmony....I doubt...we have much in common..."
Sinister	"Ohhh, so you've ended up in a debate or two then, I gather..." Seven's expression is amused, raising his own glass to her and sipping from it, when she expounds on the lack of similarity and relative insanity. "Well. I did kill several of my own bretheren, stole enlightenment for humanity, ended up with a cult forming -around- me, got into things with the first woman and took her multitudinous progeny under my wing, ranted about a lot of things, riled against creation, sulked a good few millenia ... got used and abused by my father, blamed for all the ills of humankind then said 'fuck it' and went to live with you all, in peace and harmony and copious amounts of illicit substances." He lights another cigarette, a warmth in his eyes at least. "And that I tend to overvalue and undervalue my on worth on a regular basis, thanks to a long, long time of feeling like I screwed up everything, only to realize that it takes two to tango, as it were. Tangoing solo just makes you look like an idiot."
Rogue	Rogue lets out a laugh as she picks up her glass to shoot back the whiskey whole. In one go. Because she can. "Oh you can say that. He's got a way with words. I've got a way with flirting. Put words and flirting together and you can likely see where things went one way and then the other. Especially since he could turn off my powers without me knowing he was turning off my powers. It was weird. He's weird. But he's also intelligent, evil, kind, like a parent, and also an enemy all in one person. It's..." She pauses and then laughs. "Weird." As Luci-er-Seven, goes down the rabbit hole of all the things he's done, she blinks. Then motions for another whiskey. Then blinks again. "O...kay...less all the powers you have and I suppose.... we're....kinda cut from the same cloth... ish?" Then she takes a breath. "Look, if YOU know how he's supposed to use my powers, then why don't you tell ME how he's supposed to use 'em and then I can go tell him and we can get this whole thing finished. Cause the sooner it gets done and we save the world from this catastrophe the sooner I can get my boyfriend to stop having mild coniption fits and we can go take on the next threat to existance as we know it...'
Sinister	"Quite the conversational cocktail just waiting to go in all kinds of interesting directions, yes." Another sip of the whiskey and he holds his empty out for a refill, which miraculously comes in quick. The bottle pours, in both glasses. And then, just a grin, with even white teeth. See? Similarities. "He can be weirder, I'm fairly certain. But that's a conversation I'm not going to have." With the angling for an answer, he takes a deep drag of his smoke, blows it to the roof again and then down toward the floor, flicks ash with a glance toward where it /doesn't/ land and looks back to her. "Gemini principle. Two things that are essentially the same, can produce similar or identical effects, in two different places. But unfortunately, that's about as much as I can say, though I'm fairly certain he's wracked his brain on what I meant and come up with -some- kind of solution. I'm hampered by the observer effect, you see. This is the prime reality, I'm not from here -- but if I try and influence things too much and derail the choices of -this- reality with more than a mild hint or two, I run the risk of causing a cascade causality failure." He taps his head again. "Also helps to have him in my head, the science makes a hole lot more sense when he can painstakingly explain it."