"My Friends Say I Look Better Without You"
Dictionary.com word of the day: jettison. Jettison: throw away or over.
A sweatshirt flew out of the open door, followed by a pack of cards. An eight ball made a clunk before it rolled down the hallway, closely followed by an overlarge, ugly, florescent green monkey -- God only knew why she'd kept the thing.
A vase full of dead flowers -- calla lillies -- was in her hand, and she hesitated for a moment, trying to decide if she'd destroy the vase as well. Cleaning up glass could be a bit--
"Rogue."
Speaking of. She turned around, "Yes, Jean?"
The senior X-Men surveyed the destruction in her room and the hall, her brows furrowed in concern. "What are you doing?"
Rogue smiled just a little too widely. "Cleaning."
"Cleaning," Jean said flatly. "By throwing everything out in the hallway."
"Yeup," the vase, Rogue decided, definitely had to go. "Ah'll get a bag and stuff it all in later."
Jean's eyes sharpened, "I can't help but notice you're being awfully selective in what you throw out."
Rogue shrugged, and said through gritted teeth, "Ah'm just gettin' started."
"I see," Jean said. "Well, just, be careful. People have to walk in this hallway too, you know."
"People should watch where they're walkin'. Ah live on the same floor as Bobby Drake. A few things gettin' thrown out of mah room should be the least of their worries."
Jean turned to go, "All the same..."
"Nice of you ta stop by, Jean."
Jean stopped walking.
"Aw, hell, I didn't mean it," Rogue muttered under her breath.
"Rogue." Jean didn't turn to look at her, staring out into the hall instead. "He'll come back."
Rogue frowned down at the vase in her hand. "I don't care."
She waited until she heard Jean start to walk away, and then through the vase out the door with all of her might. She wasn't too surprised when she didn't hear it shatter, and watched as a telekinetic field caught the vase, and the assorted flowers, and set it well away from the pile she had jettisoned from her room.
She stuck out her lower lip and blew out a gust of air, mussing her bangs as she glared at the door, unwilling to admit that somewhere in her annoyance with Jean's interference was a small bit of gratitude.
A sweatshirt flew out of the open door, followed by a pack of cards. An eight ball made a clunk before it rolled down the hallway, closely followed by an overlarge, ugly, florescent green monkey -- God only knew why she'd kept the thing.
A vase full of dead flowers -- calla lillies -- was in her hand, and she hesitated for a moment, trying to decide if she'd destroy the vase as well. Cleaning up glass could be a bit--
"Rogue."
Speaking of. She turned around, "Yes, Jean?"
The senior X-Men surveyed the destruction in her room and the hall, her brows furrowed in concern. "What are you doing?"
Rogue smiled just a little too widely. "Cleaning."
"Cleaning," Jean said flatly. "By throwing everything out in the hallway."
"Yeup," the vase, Rogue decided, definitely had to go. "Ah'll get a bag and stuff it all in later."
Jean's eyes sharpened, "I can't help but notice you're being awfully selective in what you throw out."
Rogue shrugged, and said through gritted teeth, "Ah'm just gettin' started."
"I see," Jean said. "Well, just, be careful. People have to walk in this hallway too, you know."
"People should watch where they're walkin'. Ah live on the same floor as Bobby Drake. A few things gettin' thrown out of mah room should be the least of their worries."
Jean turned to go, "All the same..."
"Nice of you ta stop by, Jean."
Jean stopped walking.
"Aw, hell, I didn't mean it," Rogue muttered under her breath.
"Rogue." Jean didn't turn to look at her, staring out into the hall instead. "He'll come back."
Rogue frowned down at the vase in her hand. "I don't care."
She waited until she heard Jean start to walk away, and then through the vase out the door with all of her might. She wasn't too surprised when she didn't hear it shatter, and watched as a telekinetic field caught the vase, and the assorted flowers, and set it well away from the pile she had jettisoned from her room.
She stuck out her lower lip and blew out a gust of air, mussing her bangs as she glared at the door, unwilling to admit that somewhere in her annoyance with Jean's interference was a small bit of gratitude.