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XII
By the time Rogue comes in to work the next morning Magneto is already at his desk with the folders Mystique had brought him stacked in his out tray ready to be taken away and filed, a pen between his teeth as he flicks through a stack of paperwork that has accumulated in his absence, waiting to be signed. She bustles through the door and jumps about a foot when she looks up and sees him sat there, clapping a gloved hand to her chest and laughing breathlessly. “Oh! Lord, Magneto, you surprised me,” and she takes another couple of steps closer to the desk, stops just on the other side where she can peer at what he’s doing. “Guess ah got used to you being away! It’s good to see you back, safe and sound, if you don’t mind me saying.”
Magneto takes the pen out of his mouth and accepts the mug of coffee she hands him with a small nod, and suddenly he realises he is unexpectedly pleased to see her as well, and gives her a small smile. She lights up like a torch, and he makes a mental note to be kinder to her in future if this is the result. “It’s good to be back,” he says, glancing back down at the papers on the desk before pushing them away a little, already sick of them. “What have you been doing while I was away?”
“Well, there was still a lot of stuff coming into your office that ah was sorting,” she says, and glances behind herself for a moment before stepping back to grab one of the visitor chairs and dragging it up close to the desk, around the side so she’s sitting with him rather than across from him. “Ms Frost gave me some work to do for her, too, and Logan - that’s Wolverine - has been doing some training with me, you know, power stuff. Ah’ve kept myself busy, no fear.”
She’s a bright young thing, sat perched in the chair with feet swinging just a little against the carpet, that great curly mane of hers already trying to escape the elastic she’s tied it back with. Rogue is why he does this job, Magneto thinks, her and others like her - young enough still to be filled up with optimism and hope, with time enough to grow in a world where being a mutant is a good thing. After the unpleasant reading he’d spent the night doing it’s good to have the reminder sat in front of him, keen and desperate for praise. He wonders what Charles would say, settles on “I’m pleased to hear it,” which seems to do well enough; she smiles, anyway.
Magneto glances at the folders on his desk, at the thick bundles of paper filled with his notes, and on a sudden whim he asks, “How much of this do you follow yourself? Not just sorting it into trays, but reading.”
Her feet pause, and she blinks, clearly surprised. “Ah read a lot of it, though the science parts aren’t really my area. Why?”
“I was wondering what you thought of the current situation with the humans.”
“Oh.”
“Oh?”
“It’s just - ” she pauses, bites her lip, then continues, “you’ve never asked my opinion before, is all.”
“Consider it a promotion,” he says wryly, and waves a hand at her, leaning back in his chair. “Go on. It’s not a trick question.”
She tilts her head back as she considers, and her boots start to brush quietly against the floor again, a soft susurration of leather on carpet. “Well. Ah see it like this. They didn’t much like us existing in the first place, and then mutants took over and they had to get used to that even if they didn’t like it. But now the humans got used to it and they still don’t like it - us - mutants. So they’re kicking off all over the place. Plus they’re all scared of you the most and you went out of the country for a couple months, that probably gave them ideas.”
He snorts, and, emboldened, she says, “What was it like down there? Was it awful?”
FILL: Everyday Love in Stockholm 119/?
By the time Rogue comes in to work the next morning Magneto is already at his desk with the folders Mystique had brought him stacked in his out tray ready to be taken away and filed, a pen between his teeth as he flicks through a stack of paperwork that has accumulated in his absence, waiting to be signed. She bustles through the door and jumps about a foot when she looks up and sees him sat there, clapping a gloved hand to her chest and laughing breathlessly. “Oh! Lord, Magneto, you surprised me,” and she takes another couple of steps closer to the desk, stops just on the other side where she can peer at what he’s doing. “Guess ah got used to you being away! It’s good to see you back, safe and sound, if you don’t mind me saying.”
Magneto takes the pen out of his mouth and accepts the mug of coffee she hands him with a small nod, and suddenly he realises he is unexpectedly pleased to see her as well, and gives her a small smile. She lights up like a torch, and he makes a mental note to be kinder to her in future if this is the result. “It’s good to be back,” he says, glancing back down at the papers on the desk before pushing them away a little, already sick of them. “What have you been doing while I was away?”
“Well, there was still a lot of stuff coming into your office that ah was sorting,” she says, and glances behind herself for a moment before stepping back to grab one of the visitor chairs and dragging it up close to the desk, around the side so she’s sitting with him rather than across from him. “Ms Frost gave me some work to do for her, too, and Logan - that’s Wolverine - has been doing some training with me, you know, power stuff. Ah’ve kept myself busy, no fear.”
She’s a bright young thing, sat perched in the chair with feet swinging just a little against the carpet, that great curly mane of hers already trying to escape the elastic she’s tied it back with. Rogue is why he does this job, Magneto thinks, her and others like her - young enough still to be filled up with optimism and hope, with time enough to grow in a world where being a mutant is a good thing. After the unpleasant reading he’d spent the night doing it’s good to have the reminder sat in front of him, keen and desperate for praise. He wonders what Charles would say, settles on “I’m pleased to hear it,” which seems to do well enough; she smiles, anyway.
Magneto glances at the folders on his desk, at the thick bundles of paper filled with his notes, and on a sudden whim he asks, “How much of this do you follow yourself? Not just sorting it into trays, but reading.”
Her feet pause, and she blinks, clearly surprised. “Ah read a lot of it, though the science parts aren’t really my area. Why?”
“I was wondering what you thought of the current situation with the humans.”
“Oh.”
“Oh?”
“It’s just - ” she pauses, bites her lip, then continues, “you’ve never asked my opinion before, is all.”
“Consider it a promotion,” he says wryly, and waves a hand at her, leaning back in his chair. “Go on. It’s not a trick question.”
She tilts her head back as she considers, and her boots start to brush quietly against the floor again, a soft susurration of leather on carpet. “Well. Ah see it like this. They didn’t much like us existing in the first place, and then mutants took over and they had to get used to that even if they didn’t like it. But now the humans got used to it and they still don’t like it - us - mutants. So they’re kicking off all over the place. Plus they’re all scared of you the most and you went out of the country for a couple months, that probably gave them ideas.”
He snorts, and, emboldened, she says, “What was it like down there? Was it awful?”