un_gloved | (no subject)

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Rogue's room had the air of one that was unlived in. It had been almost half a year since she'd begun sleeping at other people's places. Mostly Spike's, a few times Wolverine's, but almost never in a room alone. She spent time her in her room, and kept things there, but it didn't feel the way it had when it had been constantly a mess and fully hers.

That kind of thing seemed to be going around. At least, her room wasn't the only thing that felt half-alien and unfamiliar.

After more than two hours of not moving, Rogue's eyelids twitched. Her lashes fluttered open and she took in the room with a calm, steady gaze. Not sedated- not any more- although a certain lethargy clung to her initial movements, turning her head and and shifting against the mattress, pushing herself up on her elbows and frowning a little as her head fell forward, heavy.

"Mnh."

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"So it's all idle conjecture," Emma said, "based on what, a kiss and a crush?" She stood as she spoke, barely resisting the urge to pace. Sessions with Rogue would have been so much easier if she'd had her ability still. "We need a bit more to go on than that."

Rogue blinked a few times, and she stared at Emma a little harder. Her hackles were starting to raise.

"A crush? He's the first person Ah ever loved, Emma, 'n th'only one Ah ever kissed outta passion- back home. It ain't some school-yard hang up Ah'm tryin'a blow up into somethin' more. Ah know what Creed's thoughts feel like, and this wasn't him, but he was in it, somehow. 'n Ah don't think it had anythin' to do with Wolverine!"

Emma just watched her, apparently unfazed, and nodded calmly. "Alright," she said, "you're the only one who would know." Unfortunately. Helping Rogue never failed to make her more irritable over her loss, although even that was preferable to breaking down over it. "What did it feel like, then? You were concerned for the safety of someone, several people. What else?"

"Ah dunno, it's all a jumble," Rogue said, now thoroughly agitated and ill-equipped to work around it.

"But Ah heard Sabretooth's voice 'n Ah didn't know where Ah was, but Ahg ot- scared, Ah guess, because Ah coulda' sworn the Marah..." The wind left her metaphorical sails and she stared at the wall as threads of information tried to spool together in her mind.

"....The Marauders?"

Emma slowed, stopped, looked quizzically at Rogue. That particular set predated her affiliation with the X-Men, but she was familiar enough to find that — and, moreover, Rogue's reaction — interesting.

"Does Gambit have some special association with them?" she asked. "An especially traumatic incident, a particularly bad fight, something you might inadvertently have found yourself reliving?"

"I know he has... history with Sinister," Rogue said, reluctantly, because it wasn't really her secret to tell.

"But the rest of it, no. Or, I dunno. He ain't big on sharing."

"No, I don't imagine he would be," Emma said. That was hardly surprising. Who among them was? It was a trait she couldn't fault any of them for. "But all the same, Rogue, I think you're going to have to speak to him. If you can get to the bottom of what's caused this incident, that might prove very helpful."

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