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Warren paced the floor again. He figured he'd covered about half a mile of pacing since he got off the phone. He wondered how much more he'd cover until Rogue's friends arrived.

She lay on the couch now, still out cold. A bruise was forming on her left cheek where he'd punched her, but she had no other physical injuries. He'd caught her fall easily enough. 

It was the waiting that was the hard part.

A part of him hoped she would wake up now. Explain how it was that a teenage girl like her could sound exactly like a full-grown madman, and why she was suddenly displaying the same maniacal tendencies when she'd seemed normal enough the last time Warren had seen her.

Another part of him hoped she wouldn't wake up until after her friends had taken her home. If she woke up now sporting her earlier Magneto persona, Warren had no allusions of coming out on top again. He doubted she'd let him surprise her a second time.

He turned his pacing towards the couch and stood for a moment staring down at his visitor. Her slumbering form gave no indication of menace. Aside from the bruise, she looked for all the world like an innocent young girl sleeping in peace.

But the urge to bind her with rope was strong.

Warren ran a hand through his face in frustration. A rope really wouldn't have much effect anyway. About zero, actually.

If she woke up again before her friends arrived, he would have to be very quick in deducing whether she was herself. And if she wasn't, his only option at that point would be to—punch her again. 

He groaned into his hands, pulling his face down. "Please, please don't make me have to smack you again," he muttered, staring remorsefully at the dark bruise that glared back at him from its perch on her pale, tiny face.

She stirred as if on cue. Unthinkingly, Warren took one step back. 

"Oh, man." She opened her eyes and brought a hand to her head. Warren moved to the side, behind the couch where she couldn't see him right away. 

"Wha—? Where am Ah?" 

Rogue. Definitely Rogue. Relief surged through him, almost making him want to jump into the air and whoop. But he composed himself, stepping back into her field of vision. "You're in my suite, Rogue. At the Worthington Tower." 

She looked up at him with a confused frown. Then suddenly her face cleared, and she shot up to a sitting position, causing her to wince and grab her head again. "Ohhh, not smart." 

Warren had jumped back at the abrupt move. Cautiously, he stayed where he was, waiting a moment before asking, "Do you remember how you got here?"

"Yeah." Her head was still bowed into her hands. "Crap."

He blinked.

"Did—are you hurt?" she asked hoarsely.

"No. I'm—" He paused, looking for the right word. None came to mind, so he settled for a repeat. "No."

He stood staring down at her, unsure of what to do or say next. He felt bad that she was in pain, because it had been his punch that was giving her such a headache now. Then again, she had broken into his home and made him punch her. He opened his mouth, trying to form the right question.

"Remember what Ah told you about my power?" she suddenly asked, sparing him the trouble.

"You absorb people."

"Right. Usually Ah borrow their memories and abilities for only a short while. But something must've been off when Ah touched Magneto." She looked up at him again, her gaze hazy. "He's really strong. Got a lot of control. And power."

"Wait, you mean—he's been hanging around your head? All this week?"

"Kind of. 'Cept last night was the first time he really made himself known. Ah had a nightmare. But it wasn't like the others." She blinked a little, shaking her head. "He was there, too. Watching the nightmare with me. Making the nightmare happen."

Warren grimaced. He sat down beside her, but she moved away from him. "Don't worry, I won't hit you again," he told her, regret straining his voice.

"No, it ain't that," she said absently, not even looking at him as she tapped her temples with her palms.

"What're you—"

"Crap."

"What?"

When she glanced at him, he saw she was struggling to focus on his face. "Maybe you should hit me again."

"Rogue—"

"Do it." She squeezed her eyes shut, scrunching up her face in anticipation. "Now."

He stared, trying to decide whether to argue or to just work up the nerve to punch her out. That had been his original plan, after all. But now here she was setting her face in a ridiculous way, waiting for his fist to land, and all he could do was shake his head and wonder if it was okay for him to laugh at her.

"I'm sorry," he said, turning away. "I can't. You look funny."

He waited a moment for her to respond. To yell and egg him on, or sigh and agree. When nothing came, he turned back. Her eyes were still closed. But her face looked strained now, like she was concentrating.

"Rogue?"

Her face smoothed. She smiled and opened her eyes. 

Warren froze at her now yellow gaze.

"She considers you a gentleman, you know," came the awful voice. "And as a gentleman, you should've done as the lady requested."

Warren managed to catch a blur of auburn and white before a small fist slammed into his face. He reeled. A quick second punch threw his body across the room.

"A shame no one listens to the girl."

It was the last thing Warren heard before passing out.