[ when the drinks and the rings come their way, rogue stares down at her poison as she listens to his kind words. it's comforting to hear, really, even though the two men didn't see eye to eye and had this almost unspoken quarrel between them. the white-redhead shakes her head at the apology, then smiles weakly before finally taking a hold of her drink. ]

I didn't go to his funeral, either. I... I didn't want to see it. If I did, it'd make it real, ya know?

[ the sudden impulse to just forget everything (and maybe almost everyone) swells behind her rib cage, and rogue chugs the drink down — not stopping until it's completely empty. so much for pacing and not getting wasted.

she is supposed to be keeping a close eye on him, and for any signs of him spiraling. not the other way around. but having the liquor sting to her forehead is somewhat alluring, and she hopes the stuff will work its magic soon. rogue sets the cup down and breathes out a sigh, eyes shut to help her gear the conversation elsewhere. somehow. ]

I haven't spoken with the folks much. They don't seem too frighten by our powers. That's right good, innit?

[ or rather so far, so good, at least. ]