16526/Whiskey and Wishes

Whiskey and Wishes
Date of Scene:	09 December 2023
Location:	X-Lounge
Synopsis:	Rogue and Logan share a bit of banter following a rough X-Men mission. Whiskey and Wishes.
Cast of Characters:	Rogue, Logan Howlett

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Rogue has posed:
It had been a long day, and night for that matter. The X-Men had been deployed to South America where a group of Mutants had been kidnapped to a secret base trying to pull samples of mutant blood. With a relatively small team, the Blackbird had landed, and the team had attempted stealth. It didn't last long though, Rogue and Logan had been forced to engage in a number of battles against well armed soldiers trying to defend the genetics research compound, while the rest of the team extracted the prisoners. A lot of guns, a lot of bombs, a lot of blood, screams, and fire. But the night was won, and the six captives were brought back to the States, and taken to get fixed up in the X-men medical ward.

Rogue, battered and dirtied, takes a sharp turn in the hallway in to the X-Lounge, her jacket pulled off and dropped in a heap on the floor, her suit covered in scorch marks, and battle damage. She moves with a huffy step toward the kitchen area where she reaches for the liquor cabinet.

"You want somethin?" She asks Logan, who was likely put through the ringer tonight.

Logan Howlett has posed:
"To sleep for about a month," Logan groans. He's been bandaged up around the middle, his brown and gold uniform rolled down to his middle to leave his upper body exposed. He healed almost instantaneously in the heat of battle, but when the adrenaline stopped pumping his healing factor slowed down. He'd still be fine in a few days, but he was going to feel it until then.

He lets out a grunt as he lowers himself onto a chair, wincing and turning his face skywards as he hisses through his teeth.

"I'm tired of all these damn sci-fi weapons every goon squad is getting kitted out with now. Was a time they'd shoot me with regular old lead. Least that didn't feel like I'd spilled hot coffee all over myself."

Rogue has posed:
Two glasses are plucked from their shelf, both have large cubes of ice dropped in to them, followed by amber liquid being poured over them nice and slowly.

At what he says, Rogue smirks, with her eyes down on the drinks at the counter in the small kitchen area. "Tell me about it. As soon as our suits got upgraded for ballistics, these damn laser guns start hittin' the hands of every single asshole we end up facin' off against."

She gathers up the two glasses, and the bottle, and saunters over to sit in the chair catty-corner to Logan's own. She offers him one of the glasses, and plunks the whiskey bottle down on the table in front of them.

Once seated, her legs cross at the knees, her tall yellow boots dingy and dirty from sole to above the knees. She lifts her own glass of whisky up to her lips for a sip, as her left hand shoves aside her messy hair from her face.

"I guess that's the price'a all the damn space nerds comin' to our planet, and runnin' amuck. They just spread all their damn tech around too, and we suffer for it..."

Logan Howlett has posed:
"Space nerds indeed."

Logan takes the offered drink, grumbling as he reaches for it and causes some injury momentary discomfort. He just lets it sit in his hand for the time being, leaning back and focusing on not hurting quite so damn much.

"No kiddin'. Those guns seem designed to make wardrobe malfunctions. Lucky it wasn't a training mission."

He laughs to himself but it hurts so he groans and lapses back into silence once again.

"Maybe we should move and play super-heroes somewhere else?"

Rogue has posed:
Rogue smirks at him in return. She was known for wardrobe malfunctions with the team, many of them chide her for it. Such is the fate of being the team's tank for most missions. After another sip of the drink, she lowers the glass down to her chair's arm rest, and eyes him when she sees him wince from injuries. "You wanna give up this life'a travelin' and rescuin' random folks who get caught up in a whirlwind'a crazy bullshit spreadin' across the globe like a damn wild fire of dumb?" She asks him in that southern drawl voice.

"I dunno... So long as it stays away from our home, I kinda like it."

She jinbles the ice in her glass for a second or two before she shakes her head just a little bit. "Maybe I'm gettin' addicted to the adrenaline though, who knows, really..." She mutters, the glass coming up again for another sip from its contents.

When she lowers it once more, she glances around the lounge, then back to him since he's the most interesting thing in it at the moment. "You gonna dress up as Santa this year?" She asks him with a playful grin playing across her visage.

Logan Howlett has posed:
"Well, you did agree to marry someone who can pull the world apart at the molecular level on a bad day," Logan says, closing his eyes and letting his head loll back against the chair, "So if you're sayin' you like to live dangerously, I'm not gonna call you on it."

The question about dressing up draws another shake of his head.

"Nah. Get Hank to do it. He loves that shit."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue's green eyes just stay on him as he speaks, the mention of the marriage thing just making her smile faintly at it. She's never been one to talk about that side of her, as it has been something kept mostly under wraps around the school, let alone amongst the team. She knows she's probably been more blind sided by it as a choice in her life than anyone else is, but it's a relationship that has been integral to her mental and physical well being.

"Hank scares the kids when he shows off the fangs at their present requests." She states all matter-of-factly, but in truth she's just joking, and the slowly creeping grin shows it for a brief moment before she strikes it from her features.

"I'm glad you came back, though. We're a better team when we got you slashin' and clawin' the bad folk outta our way." She tells him with a sincerity to her tone.

She stands up then, holding her glass at her side as she walks over to the pool table to gather up one of the pool cues. "You wanna play a game, or you too beat up?" She asks him then, tapping the tip of the pool cue on the edge of the table. Clearly her durability and endruanceendurance gives her a bit of an edge in some ways over him. He can take more punishment overall, but so long as the hits stay below her damage threshold, she can tank them well enough.

Logan Howlett has posed:
"Yeah, I guess ... "

What exactly Logan is addressing with that is anyone's guess, and he doesn't seem interested in elaborating upon it.

He lifts his head slightly at the mention of a game, narrowing his eyes as he looks at the table before shaking his head.

"Nah, not for me. You go ahead, though. I'll critique your technique."