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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Rogue frowned a little.

"I've picked up on that. It's not exactly fair, to project another man's mistakes onto you, but given the uncanny resemblance and likelihood of similar projected paths, I can see how people would jump to doing so. Still, I'm sure each of us would appreciate the opportunity to see paths better left untaken before we stumble onto them ourselves."

"...yeah, okay," Tony said, having discarded any sort of deceptive smile in favor of just outright staring. "I mean, I can't project much on to you. The other you. You're a popsicle. Presumably."

She didn't so much as crack a smile at the popsicle quip, but nodded.

"Then all I can say is, I hope nothing is so different in your world that it would prevent us from being friends."

"Well, you didn't even crack a smile just then, so there's... actually, Rhodey, never mind," he said. "So, what, you want to braid each other's hair? Mostly I could just do yours, right now."

"What's going on with the reactor?" she asked, seemingly unphased, but also allowing a touch of concern, genuine and understated, to come back into the tone of her voice and expression.

"The... reactor?" he said. "It's... reacting. Doing it's thing."

This came off more evasive than he would have liked.

"That's not how the suit runs, where- and when- I'm from," she said, with all the careful consideration the situation warranted.

"It seems... dangerous. Even by your standards."

"No? Where you're from, Iron Man seems to have been around for a while," Tony pointed out. "Seems to have it in hand."

"When I met Iron Man, the suit worked a little differently," she said.

"I'm sure it's gone through innumerable reiterations since. How are things, here, for the others and yourself? It can't be an easy adjustment. I think this conversation is proof enough of that." He looked as though he felt badly for himself when he said it, but that was only because he couldn't direct his sympathy toward Rogue in any other direction.

"An easy adjust- no, it's strange, it is," Tony said, frowning once again at Steve Rogers the young woman, "increasingly strange."

"How are you coping?" she asked, with no discernible motive or judgment.

"Badly," Tony said. "I'm a mess. I'm very confused, I don't know how to handle this."

Beat. "Captain America is a fox, it's just- I can't cope with that."

"Well," she said, tone deadpan, "I was put on a stamp, once."

This could have been a joke, albeit not in the sense that it hadn't happened.

...did Captain America just tell a joke?

Well, pseudo-Captain America, that was still quite offputting.

"Was that a- well, they put a lot of people on stamps," Tony said, "and very few of them could be swimsuit models. Abe does work that hat, though."

Rogue's gaze sharpened a little, but the focus was directly internally. She seemed to be taking careful measure of something for a moment, and when her gaze moved back to Tony it was somehow much more penetrating.

"Tony, there's something important I want to say to you. Possibly you'll dismiss it out of hand, possibly you'll taken offense, and I understand either reaction completely. Rogue's mind is volatile, and even before she had Ms. Marvel's powers she was dangerous- there are a lot of ghosts in here clamoring for the driver's seat. I don't know when or if we'll speak again, so let me say now, as a future friend, that I'm worried about you, Tony. I don't want to see you drive yourself to drink again over circumstances in this place you can't control. You're a hero, and you're stronger than that."

Tony stared at... her? Him? He stared at Captain America, a little taken aback. A little dumbfounded.

"That's very nice of you to say," he said, formally. "And very- did you do after-school specials? You should. Maybe directed more... appropriately, I've been around a while, maybe not... heroically, but. Not really a school for it to be after."

"Tony," she began sternly, then swooned, stumbling forward a step, reaching a hand blindly out to try and catch herself on something stable.

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