[Private]
Gnnfh.
It is a little late for a housewarming gift. However, Ororo has resolved that she is bringing one anyway. Carrying a large plant from the florist's in Greenwich to the apartment building, she draws an odd look or two; but as she leaves the crisp October afternoon and rides the elevator up to her best friend's former floor, most strangers are gifted with dawning understanding: oh. Plant. Apartment building. Right. Ororo does not especially care either way. She carries the large rustling thing across the hall to the door. Upon reaching the door, she rat-tats against it with the knuckles of her free hand, hefting the plant carefully in the cradle of her other arm.
One of Rogue's guilt pleasures thumps through the air, the sounds of classic country coming from the freshly-bought stereo system. And there is Rogue, thankfully not on the receiving ends of odd looks due to the privacy of walls. There is a bright pink feather duster in her hand, a bottle of cleaner in the other as she hops around to the music. She's on one foot, reaching up to sweep the duster over the top of the fan blade with the knock catches her. She lowers herself and makes for the door, opening it as soon as the peephole is checked out. "Storm? Hi..." Rogue says, unable to hide the surprise in her voice.
"Hello, Rogue." Ororo offers a wide smile and lifts the rustling plant in both hands, its planter rust-coloured counterpoint to the rich green of foliage and the broad white shells of its flowers. "Spathiphyllum. I think it is a surviving the blackout present more than a housewarming gift at this point."
Rogue back peddles quickly, eyes a little wide as she holds the door open for the older woman. "Yeah? Couldn't much say as spell it, but it's real nice, Storm. Thanks." The plant only gets a small look over before Storm is regarded under much more careful an eye. "Jubes ain't here. She's closin' tonight. Haven't seen you much." Likely due to the hopefully inconspicuous attempts of avoiding the other lately.
"Well, I had hoped to catch both of you," Ororo admits. "I'll have to give Jubilee my regards another time. Where would you like this?" She lifts it just a little more, the spathiphyllum being far too large and unwieldy a thing to actually waggle. "It has been awhile. I've been very busy, but I did mean to drop in before this. Sorry about that. How are you doing?"
"Anywhere! Please, oh... by the window, Ah guess?" Rogue insists quickly, almost nervously, as she flaps the duster at the side table just outside the fire escape window. With an awkward hop and duck, the country music ceases to exist and Rogue straightens up to face Storm. "Been good enough, considerin' how chaotic the city's been lately. But Ah mean, those are the times, right? How's the school? Cassy make it back okay?"
Storm settles the gifted plant on the table, accessible to sunlight. "It's pretty low-maintenance. I didn't want to feel like I was consigning something delicate to its doom. Don't worry about keeping the shades drawn. They like it a little dark. Just water it once every few days." She wipes her hands on the pinstriped black of her slacks, stepping back from the plant. "The school ... well." She sighs into a soft laugh and shakes her head. "As well as can be expected, I think. Cassy is fine."
"Smart thinkin'" Rogue observes, following up behind her at a few pace lengths behind. "Me an' Jubes ain't so good at rememberin' things like that. But it sounds managable." The cleaning supplies are set to the side and Rogue turns her attention on the plant with a museum like stance. "Good t'hear. Ah'm almost jealous y'all took her back away from us. She cooked an' cleaned an' everything. Speakin' o'which, think we still have some leftovers. Want 'nything? We got water, juice, umm, nothin' alcoholic, sorry." Brown eyes sweep over Storm, curious in manner as she takes a step back towards the kitchen.
"No, no, thank you, I'm fine." Ororo smiles dismissal with another slight shake of her head. "She has strong disagreements with the school's politics at the moment. If she goes on strike and ends up back here, well--" She doesn't finish that thought; her lips twitch a little towards a grimace. She says instead, "And how is Jubilee?"
Rogue is still edging back towards the kitchen, her teeth pressing to her bottom lip. "You sure? 'Cause... well, okay." Rogue shrugs and finally retreats back, lowering herself onto the couch and leaning forward conversationally. "She's... great. Real great. Goin' out with Wesley, now. They're cute together, Ah guess. Speakin' o'boyfriends... how's Rossi?"
Ororo moves to join her on the couch, taking the opposite corner; she lets her hands clasp in her lap and smiles toward the ceiling. "Oh," she says, "fine. Just fine. I am afraid to ask how far the gossip mill has taken us, but--" She turns over her hands, showing palms. She tips her head, regarding Rogue curiously for a moment, but makes no further inquiry as of yet.
Rogue withdraws slightly, nestling into the far corner of the couch with her heels rising and hooking up onto the couch cushion. She tries not to look at Storm. "Oh, no gossip. Ah'd think you'd be more worried about /us/ getting rumors. Or maybe, Ah dunno, that's what you wanted?" Her head tilts gently to the side, a hesitant glance shooting off towards Storm.
Ororo looks blank. She frowns down the couch at Rogue, her glance sidelong. She opens her mouth to speak and stops, closing it over a deepening frown. Then she says, "What?"
"Erm," Rogue begins, scratching at her temple as she looks for something, anything, to distract her. The plant. "You know, Ah mean... well. Back when Ah just had come back from that vacation few months back?"
Ororo looks at Rogue with increasing noncomprehension. Her brow knits in perplexity.
Rogue blows air out of puffed cheeks, eyes rolling up. "What, don't tell me you forgot? Ah mean, Ah know Ah didn't exactly jump at the chance, Storm. But, hey, Ah ain't Alyssa. You're mah history professor, an' a woman on top of it."
Storm stares. Blanker than blank. "Excuse me?"
Rogue rotates her head, slowly enough that she might as well be roasting a turkey on her neck. "What?" she counters back, as if hoping to gain some ground this way.
"Are you suggesting that I--" Ororo's spine has gone quite straight, a ramrod against the back of the couch. Her voice grows lower and darker, awakening ire directed at a distant source. "Made advances?"
Rogue nearly shies back, eyes twitching wide for a brief moment before her stubborn nature surging forth to counteract. "Well, /yeah/," the belle huffs out with a sarcastic laugh, throwing her hands in the air. "Unless you untyin' mah top out o'/nowhere/ is some sorta nonsexual thang where you come from?" The suggestion isn't serious at all, Rogue's own eyes flashing a bit with the confrontation.
Ororo drops her elbows to her knees and leans forward, the palms of her hands pressing into her forehead. "Goddess. Gods. Rogue--" She cants her head, peeping at the younger woman through but one eye. "I ... was not myself. At the time."
Rogue crosses her arms, the gesture more defensive than aggressive in the current situation. "Yeah, Ah heard you were sick. But, you know, the last time Ah heard, bein' sick don't make 'nyone gay. 'Less you were on some powerful drugs. Now Storm, hon. There ain't a /damn/ thing wrong with it, okay? Jus', you know. Us? It'd never work. Lordy, what would /Jean/ say? Chris'd think it was hot, betcha." Rogue smirks, attempting to lighten the mood for her ex-professor.
"Chris is easy," Ororo dismisses around the scrub of her hands over her features. "He thinks lockpicks are hot." She drops her hands to her lap and closes her eyes, letting them tighten shut as she bravely faces up towards what circumstance must force her next to do. "Uhm. Rogue. My sexual orientation ... notwithstanding ... you know that I would never approach a student in such a way."
"Can he afford t'be anythang but?" Rogue plays, still attempting to keep her head afloat in the conversation with some humor. Silence falls until Ororo breaks it, and Rogue's head dunks right back under. "Then why did you?"
"It is apparently a side effect of the illness that I was suffering," Ororo says, staring very intently at her hands. "Unconscious urges. Um. Loss of judgment. Lack of inhibition. Memory loss." She bites her lip and then swallows, possibly to keep from going 'um' again. Or screaming. "I did not realize that I had pursued you. I apologize for the discomfort I caused."
Skepticism might even be too lack of a word for Rogue's expression. "Well, /that/ sounds like it's straight out of ah Spanish soap opera," she murmurs gently. "Does this mean all that advice you gave me was mumbo jumbo, too? 'Cause, well, Ah gotta admit... you almost turned those tables an' worked it on me. Ah tried it on Bobby, an' it worked in a way. But... it just didn't feel right."
Ororo looks pained. "I gave you advice?"
"Good gracious, Storm. Ah'm startin' to believe you on that memory loss junk." Rogue comments with a snort.
"I assure you that it is true. My memories of the time in question are very hazy." Ororo looks at her gravely, a woman with an increasing desire to flee. "I can only imagine what I might have told you."
"If you say so," Rogue replies, shrugging and staring down at her crossed arms. "Just stuff, y'know? How t'keep Bobby under mah thumb even without being able to give him what he wants. Gave me a good bit o'hope. Even if Ah can't actually tease the boy so. Mah conscious is too big, you might be surprised t'hear."
Ororo breathes a quiet laugh, startled; she shakes her head slightly and leans, carefully, back against the couch. "No, I am not surprised," she says. "It is a little empty, to take forever and give nothing in return. I have always felt that the most desirable thing about a woman is her confidence in her desirability as a woman." A belated instant later, "Er, I don't mean that as a lesbian. You don't want to trap Bobby with your charms. You want to keep him with you because that is where he wants to be. You win that with caring more than you do that with sex. All romance is friendship."
Rogue remains silent, eyes off of Storm nearly the whole time. "See, that sounds more like you." Rogue replies after a long pause, eyes finally floating up. "But, Ah'm going to admit, your other advice was more... /exciting/." She grins halfway, finally pushing herself up off the couch. "Good thang this mess is straightened out. Haven't been able to look you in the eye since August, it seems. C'mon, Ah think Ah need a strong coffee after this. Cafe's on the corner." Her keys are plucked up and jacket is thrown on as she studies the other.
Ororo lifts her hands and waves them, palms an inch distant. "Coffee sounds good," she says, and slides off the couch. (She does not have a coat. Sometimes Ororo forgets about seasons.) "I think I would rather be unexciting."
It is a little late for a housewarming gift. However, Ororo has resolved that she is bringing one anyway. Carrying a large plant from the florist's in Greenwich to the apartment building, she draws an odd look or two; but as she leaves the crisp October afternoon and rides the elevator up to her best friend's former floor, most strangers are gifted with dawning understanding: oh. Plant. Apartment building. Right. Ororo does not especially care either way. She carries the large rustling thing across the hall to the door. Upon reaching the door, she rat-tats against it with the knuckles of her free hand, hefting the plant carefully in the cradle of her other arm.
One of Rogue's guilt pleasures thumps through the air, the sounds of classic country coming from the freshly-bought stereo system. And there is Rogue, thankfully not on the receiving ends of odd looks due to the privacy of walls. There is a bright pink feather duster in her hand, a bottle of cleaner in the other as she hops around to the music. She's on one foot, reaching up to sweep the duster over the top of the fan blade with the knock catches her. She lowers herself and makes for the door, opening it as soon as the peephole is checked out. "Storm? Hi..." Rogue says, unable to hide the surprise in her voice.
"Hello, Rogue." Ororo offers a wide smile and lifts the rustling plant in both hands, its planter rust-coloured counterpoint to the rich green of foliage and the broad white shells of its flowers. "Spathiphyllum. I think it is a surviving the blackout present more than a housewarming gift at this point."
Rogue back peddles quickly, eyes a little wide as she holds the door open for the older woman. "Yeah? Couldn't much say as spell it, but it's real nice, Storm. Thanks." The plant only gets a small look over before Storm is regarded under much more careful an eye. "Jubes ain't here. She's closin' tonight. Haven't seen you much." Likely due to the hopefully inconspicuous attempts of avoiding the other lately.
"Well, I had hoped to catch both of you," Ororo admits. "I'll have to give Jubilee my regards another time. Where would you like this?" She lifts it just a little more, the spathiphyllum being far too large and unwieldy a thing to actually waggle. "It has been awhile. I've been very busy, but I did mean to drop in before this. Sorry about that. How are you doing?"
"Anywhere! Please, oh... by the window, Ah guess?" Rogue insists quickly, almost nervously, as she flaps the duster at the side table just outside the fire escape window. With an awkward hop and duck, the country music ceases to exist and Rogue straightens up to face Storm. "Been good enough, considerin' how chaotic the city's been lately. But Ah mean, those are the times, right? How's the school? Cassy make it back okay?"
Storm settles the gifted plant on the table, accessible to sunlight. "It's pretty low-maintenance. I didn't want to feel like I was consigning something delicate to its doom. Don't worry about keeping the shades drawn. They like it a little dark. Just water it once every few days." She wipes her hands on the pinstriped black of her slacks, stepping back from the plant. "The school ... well." She sighs into a soft laugh and shakes her head. "As well as can be expected, I think. Cassy is fine."
"Smart thinkin'" Rogue observes, following up behind her at a few pace lengths behind. "Me an' Jubes ain't so good at rememberin' things like that. But it sounds managable." The cleaning supplies are set to the side and Rogue turns her attention on the plant with a museum like stance. "Good t'hear. Ah'm almost jealous y'all took her back away from us. She cooked an' cleaned an' everything. Speakin' o'which, think we still have some leftovers. Want 'nything? We got water, juice, umm, nothin' alcoholic, sorry." Brown eyes sweep over Storm, curious in manner as she takes a step back towards the kitchen.
"No, no, thank you, I'm fine." Ororo smiles dismissal with another slight shake of her head. "She has strong disagreements with the school's politics at the moment. If she goes on strike and ends up back here, well--" She doesn't finish that thought; her lips twitch a little towards a grimace. She says instead, "And how is Jubilee?"
Rogue is still edging back towards the kitchen, her teeth pressing to her bottom lip. "You sure? 'Cause... well, okay." Rogue shrugs and finally retreats back, lowering herself onto the couch and leaning forward conversationally. "She's... great. Real great. Goin' out with Wesley, now. They're cute together, Ah guess. Speakin' o'boyfriends... how's Rossi?"
Ororo moves to join her on the couch, taking the opposite corner; she lets her hands clasp in her lap and smiles toward the ceiling. "Oh," she says, "fine. Just fine. I am afraid to ask how far the gossip mill has taken us, but--" She turns over her hands, showing palms. She tips her head, regarding Rogue curiously for a moment, but makes no further inquiry as of yet.
Rogue withdraws slightly, nestling into the far corner of the couch with her heels rising and hooking up onto the couch cushion. She tries not to look at Storm. "Oh, no gossip. Ah'd think you'd be more worried about /us/ getting rumors. Or maybe, Ah dunno, that's what you wanted?" Her head tilts gently to the side, a hesitant glance shooting off towards Storm.
Ororo looks blank. She frowns down the couch at Rogue, her glance sidelong. She opens her mouth to speak and stops, closing it over a deepening frown. Then she says, "What?"
"Erm," Rogue begins, scratching at her temple as she looks for something, anything, to distract her. The plant. "You know, Ah mean... well. Back when Ah just had come back from that vacation few months back?"
Ororo looks at Rogue with increasing noncomprehension. Her brow knits in perplexity.
Rogue blows air out of puffed cheeks, eyes rolling up. "What, don't tell me you forgot? Ah mean, Ah know Ah didn't exactly jump at the chance, Storm. But, hey, Ah ain't Alyssa. You're mah history professor, an' a woman on top of it."
Storm stares. Blanker than blank. "Excuse me?"
Rogue rotates her head, slowly enough that she might as well be roasting a turkey on her neck. "What?" she counters back, as if hoping to gain some ground this way.
"Are you suggesting that I--" Ororo's spine has gone quite straight, a ramrod against the back of the couch. Her voice grows lower and darker, awakening ire directed at a distant source. "Made advances?"
Rogue nearly shies back, eyes twitching wide for a brief moment before her stubborn nature surging forth to counteract. "Well, /yeah/," the belle huffs out with a sarcastic laugh, throwing her hands in the air. "Unless you untyin' mah top out o'/nowhere/ is some sorta nonsexual thang where you come from?" The suggestion isn't serious at all, Rogue's own eyes flashing a bit with the confrontation.
Ororo drops her elbows to her knees and leans forward, the palms of her hands pressing into her forehead. "Goddess. Gods. Rogue--" She cants her head, peeping at the younger woman through but one eye. "I ... was not myself. At the time."
Rogue crosses her arms, the gesture more defensive than aggressive in the current situation. "Yeah, Ah heard you were sick. But, you know, the last time Ah heard, bein' sick don't make 'nyone gay. 'Less you were on some powerful drugs. Now Storm, hon. There ain't a /damn/ thing wrong with it, okay? Jus', you know. Us? It'd never work. Lordy, what would /Jean/ say? Chris'd think it was hot, betcha." Rogue smirks, attempting to lighten the mood for her ex-professor.
"Chris is easy," Ororo dismisses around the scrub of her hands over her features. "He thinks lockpicks are hot." She drops her hands to her lap and closes her eyes, letting them tighten shut as she bravely faces up towards what circumstance must force her next to do. "Uhm. Rogue. My sexual orientation ... notwithstanding ... you know that I would never approach a student in such a way."
"Can he afford t'be anythang but?" Rogue plays, still attempting to keep her head afloat in the conversation with some humor. Silence falls until Ororo breaks it, and Rogue's head dunks right back under. "Then why did you?"
"It is apparently a side effect of the illness that I was suffering," Ororo says, staring very intently at her hands. "Unconscious urges. Um. Loss of judgment. Lack of inhibition. Memory loss." She bites her lip and then swallows, possibly to keep from going 'um' again. Or screaming. "I did not realize that I had pursued you. I apologize for the discomfort I caused."
Skepticism might even be too lack of a word for Rogue's expression. "Well, /that/ sounds like it's straight out of ah Spanish soap opera," she murmurs gently. "Does this mean all that advice you gave me was mumbo jumbo, too? 'Cause, well, Ah gotta admit... you almost turned those tables an' worked it on me. Ah tried it on Bobby, an' it worked in a way. But... it just didn't feel right."
Ororo looks pained. "I gave you advice?"
"Good gracious, Storm. Ah'm startin' to believe you on that memory loss junk." Rogue comments with a snort.
"I assure you that it is true. My memories of the time in question are very hazy." Ororo looks at her gravely, a woman with an increasing desire to flee. "I can only imagine what I might have told you."
"If you say so," Rogue replies, shrugging and staring down at her crossed arms. "Just stuff, y'know? How t'keep Bobby under mah thumb even without being able to give him what he wants. Gave me a good bit o'hope. Even if Ah can't actually tease the boy so. Mah conscious is too big, you might be surprised t'hear."
Ororo breathes a quiet laugh, startled; she shakes her head slightly and leans, carefully, back against the couch. "No, I am not surprised," she says. "It is a little empty, to take forever and give nothing in return. I have always felt that the most desirable thing about a woman is her confidence in her desirability as a woman." A belated instant later, "Er, I don't mean that as a lesbian. You don't want to trap Bobby with your charms. You want to keep him with you because that is where he wants to be. You win that with caring more than you do that with sex. All romance is friendship."
Rogue remains silent, eyes off of Storm nearly the whole time. "See, that sounds more like you." Rogue replies after a long pause, eyes finally floating up. "But, Ah'm going to admit, your other advice was more... /exciting/." She grins halfway, finally pushing herself up off the couch. "Good thang this mess is straightened out. Haven't been able to look you in the eye since August, it seems. C'mon, Ah think Ah need a strong coffee after this. Cafe's on the corner." Her keys are plucked up and jacket is thrown on as she studies the other.
Ororo lifts her hands and waves them, palms an inch distant. "Coffee sounds good," she says, and slides off the couch. (She does not have a coat. Sometimes Ororo forgets about seasons.) "I think I would rather be unexciting."