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Responsibility
'What 'bout mah plans? Don't they count as anythin'?'
Rogue laid, stretched out, across her bed, the back of her head sinking deeper into her pillow as she stared up at her colorless ceiling. She couldn't sleep---her eyelids refused to close and her brain wouldn't shut off. Not only was it incredibly hard to find a comfortable position to lay in with her giant stomach pushing out more and more by the passing days, but the previous night's events were still lingering, fresh, in her mind. What was she going to do? She couldn't afford to care for that many babies herself. She crossed out the thought of having Remy help her out from her mental list. And she couldn't rely on the Professor for buying everything she needed for the rest of her life; that wouldn't be fair on her part to make him do that.
'What Ah need is a job.' It was the last thing she thought before falling into a fitful sleep.
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"I am sorry, my dear." The blue, ape-like man paused for a moment, studying the tablet in his hands before continuing on, "But the answer is no."
"Why, Mistuh McCoy?" she asked, using her most pitiful voice and putting on her best pouting face, hoping to sway his verdict. "Ah really, really need this. Ah can't jus' expect ta be pampered for the rest of mah life, can Ah? No. Ah gotta be responsible and fend for mahself, jus' like ya told us last week when we were complainin' 'bout not havin' enough money ta go shoppin'." 'He can't deny it. That's what he said.' She looked him in the eye, searching for a glimpse of consideration on her proposal. "Please..." His shoulders dropped. A look of regret and reluctance came over his face. 'Ah have him wrapped around my pinky.'
Hank McCoy sighed as he pulled a hand through the thick, uncombed mess atop his head. His glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose, allowing him to get a better look at the manipulative teenage girl. "I'm going to let you do this," he said quite dejectedly. "But there are some restrictions." The expression on his face didn't change as he went on. "With this pregnancy, it is very important for you to play it safe. That means no lifting anything more than ten pounds, bending, or pretty much anything strenuous on your body. You are not allowed to handle anything toxic or hazardous towards your health or the babies. And you may only work for a maximum of three and a half hours a day."
Rogue jumped to her feet and scowled. "What kinda job is that?"
"Those are my rules." Hank crossed his arms, tapped his foot, and drummed his fingers on his clipboard all at the same time. "Either accept them, or too tough for you." He eyed her, waiting for a response, satisfied that she couldn't think of a respond to what he had just said.
She moaned and pulled on her face. "Do ya have a newspaper Ah can borrow?"
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Rogue studied her fingernails with the phone resting on her shoulder and her ear pressed up the speaker. The ring blasted out and made her ear ache. No one picked up. She pressed the end button and re-dialed the number. 'Pick up. Please,' she prayed. 'Don't let meh be too late.'
A voice she didn't recognize as Warren's picked up the phone. "Worthington Residence. State the reason for your call."
"Hello, this is Rogue. Ah found Mr. Worthington's ad in the paper, askin' for a maid, and was wonderin' if Ah could talk it over with him?"
"He shall be right with you, Miss Rogue."
"Hello?"
She sat down, her legs crisscross 'applesauce', something she had done a lot when she was younger and at assemblies, and leaned back against the bed's headboard. "Hi Warren. It's meh... Rogue. Ya remember? The gal who saved ya from Magneto 'bout a year ago?" she said, hoping to remind him of who she was and possibly receive special treatment. "Anyways, Ah hear ya lookin' for a maid. Has anyone applied yet?" She crossed her fingers and prayed. 'Let that be a no. No. No. No,' she chanted to herself, over and over again.
"Lucky you are---you are indeed, the first Rogue. Do you have any experience in this field of work?"
Her high spirits suddenly faded. Should she lie? She quickly decided against it, as lies usually led to more stress and hard work than she needed to deal with at the moment. "No," she answered cheerlessly. "But maybe ya could just give meh a chance ta prove mahself..."
He cut her babbling off. In a partially exasperated voice, he said, "Be here tomorrow at three o'clock---postmeridian---sharp."
Rogue smiled. "Will do."
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Rogue fell in-step behind Warren as he gave her a tour of his mansion. "... This is the living room... dining room... my room---off limits to everything and everyone..."
After a little while, she stopped paying attention to his endless rants. She was too amazed at the quality of all the items that furnished his remarkable home. Van Gogh original paintings hung on and covered his walls, while colorful pots and vases that looked like they should belong in a museum sat on the floor or stands. Motion detecting video cameras were posted in every wall's corner---there was no doubt he was on every major thief's 'hit' list with all the expensive things he had worked so hard to achieve.
"So, this will be your trial run. Are there any questions?" he asked. He turned to see her staring off into space. He snapped his fingers in front of her face. "Rogue?"
A bashful smile played on her lips. "Huh? Ah'm sorry... Ah wasn't payin' attention. What did ya say?"
He smiled. How good it was to still be a teenager without worries. "I said this will be a trial run. Do you have any questions for me?" She shook her head. "Good. All the cleaning supplies are in the west hall closet. I'll be in my office if you need me. If you get lost, just page me. This is only to be used for work purposes. It is a big house and some have gotten lost before. I never did find my old maid, Esmeralda." He handed her a cell phone. When he saw the frightened look on her face, he quickly added, "That was a joke. My number is on speed dial. Now get to work." He winked at her before walking away into the maze that was his home.
Rogue grabbed her equipment and held up a yellow sponge. She looked down at the grimy floor before getting down on her knees and scrubbing as hard as she could. A bit of soap flew into her eye. She groaned as she rubbed it out.
'Ah better get paid well for this.'
- Hi everybody. Did ya like the chappie? Well, now, Rogue has a plan for herself and the babies. She'll use the money to pay for their every need. Please review and I'll make sure to get out another chapter! Bye. xmengirlzrule. :D -
