Alright, now we're actually getting to the X-Men. Did I have you worried there for a sec? Huh? Oh, well, whatever. Anyway, I hope you like. This may seem a little weird, but bear with me. All will be revealed in time.
I know, don't you just hate it when authors say that?
Enjoy the chappie!
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The bus bounced up and down. Another pothole in the road.
Geez, what's the matter with this city? Can't they just fill 'em in and be done with it?
Rogue restrained a silent groan as a bunch of kids near the back of the bus let out whoops and laughs of excitement. For goodness's sake, it was just a stupid bump. What was the big deal?
The Goth girl with the white bangs was hardly ever in a good mood when she was forced to take field trips with a group of rowdy classmates. The constant rattling of the bus didn't help much either. It was hard to settle one's head against the window when the bus's constant shaking caused painful vibrations to run through it. And everyone else thought it was fun. She just wanted to let her mind drift away, far from the consciousness of reality. It was a reality where teens were constantly shouting at each other so they could be heard over other teens shouting, and the bus driver was shouting at all the teens to stop shouting. It was just one big unnecessary, almost idiotic noise. The same thing happened at lunch as well. At least when she was at school, Rogue had the option of eating outside under a tree behind the school. It gave her a chance for her mind to be at peace, and maybe read a book while she was at it.
Of course, Rogue wouldn't deny that there were others like her. She caught a few students here and there who were trying to read. All girls. The boys just wanted to shout and tease and do whatever possible to get on their chaperones' nerves.
She released a sigh. No wonder she didn't have any interest in the boys at her school. Sure, they weren't all bad. But Rogue really wasn't that type of girl who was out to find a guy. She was fine being on her own.
Well, most of the time.
The girl caught herself trying to steal a glance toward the back of the bus. She just managed to catch a glimpse of Jean and Scott sitting together before quickly turning away. She wanted so badly to kick herself for that.
I just want to be over him. Why can't I? It wasn't as if we were really close. Well . . . okay, not completely true. We were pretty good friends for a while. Heck, we're still friends. It's . . . it's just not the same.
Rogue had never been able to get very close to people. She didn't want to think she was one of those 'clinging vines'. She was perfectly capable of being on her own, being self-sufficient. She liked being her own person with no one else attached. But still . . . it didn't mean she had to be a loner all the time, did it?
Scott had been a new experience for her. Despite what had happened between them, or more accurately, between her and the X-Men, he still wanted to be her friend. Rogue had never met anyone like that. Everyone else she had known before then would have preferred to avoid her. And of course, that was how Mystique had wanted it. The very thought of her 'mother' made her stomach turn, without the assistance of the turbulent bus ride. She didn't suffer from motion sickness; it was emotional sickness that got to her. Dark, painful feelings flooded her every time that blue-skinned woman's face appeared. She thought she hated Mystique; she wanted to hate her. She certainly couldn't forgive her for all the hell she had put her through, just so long as the older woman gained some desired end. And yet, another feeling haunted her along with all of those other ugly feelings. This feeling was the worst, because it was the one feeling about Mystique that she didn't want to admit even to herself:
She wanted Mystique to love her – to truly care about her.
Yes, the idea seemed too crazy for Rogue to believe that she really felt this. The woman was a witch, a demon to her. But it was the only idea of a mother Rogue really had left, except for Irene. But where was Irene now? Why had she never tried to visit her? Why was her location kept secret from her foster child? Rogue knew Irene was not like Mystique, despite the fact that they were friends. She would believe in a heartbeat that Irene only wanted what was best for Rogue. Mystique always had so many other hidden agendas that her own daughter was nothing more to her than a tool, a weapon to be saved for a later date.
Perhaps it was not Mystique herself that Rogue wanted to be loved by. Just somebody that she could call a mother. Sure, Irene had been a good mom, but again, where was she now? She doubted things would ever be the same between the two of them. That ship had sailed. But the hope, the desperate hope refused to leave her.
Rogue shook her head. Whoa, did MY mind go off topic! One minute I'm thinking about Scott, the next I'm thinking about Mystique and Irene.
She hadn't even realized that she had succeeded in zoning out. The problem was that now she was back, the noise flooded her senses again. And before she could start thinking again, Kitty had plopped down next to her. Peppy Kitty, always looking for someone to chat with. Why did it usually end up being her?
"So, like, aren't you excited?" Kitty exclaimed in her typical sunny manner.
"Yeah, ecstatic," came the flat reply.
"Oh, come on. It'll be fun!"
Rogue groaned aloud this time. Now she remembered the other reason she was in a gloomy mood that day, aside from the usual.
"Sorry, Kitty, but opera ain't exactly my thing."
"How do you know? Have you ever listened to it?"
"I've heard it in passing, and that was as much as I could take."
"I know opera may seem boring, but it really isn't if you understand what's going on. The music's kind of cool, and –"
Rogue cut her short. "Look, this sounds really interesting, but may I remind you that our tastes aren't exactly alike?"
"You're only saying that because you like listening to that Grubbage group or whatever."
"It's Grunge, ponytail-head. And it's not like I'm trying to make you like it, because you wouldn't! It's just not in you."
"Well, yeah, I guess you can say that."
"Just like I can't like opera, because it's just not in me. I don't go for that kind of stuff."
"You like musicals, right?"
Rogue took an extra minute to think about this. "Well, I guess a few, here and there, depending on what it's about . . ."
"Well, opera isn't all the same. It's not all about fat women dressed in Viking costumes carrying spears and singing at the tops of their lungs! There's much more to it than that!"
Unfortunately for both girls, each was pretty firm in their ways and were unable to bend. Rogue insisted she wouldn't like opera if she heard it and kept comparing her dislike for it to Kitty's dislike for Grunge. Kitty insisted in return that Grunge didn't have a range of genres like opera. Rogue insisted that opera did have a general style, and the conversation continued this way until they finally reached their destination.
According to their musical director, Mr. Elbert, this field trip was supposed to be an opportunity to expand their knowledge and learn to understand the dynamics of music, especially when it came to performing it. So he picked a trip to the opera. In the opinions of most of the students: not a very good choice. A concert by some cool rock star or band would've been good; heck, some were willing to go from some musical or classical concert. But no, it had to be opera. The worst part was that Mr. Elbert hadn't even taken the time to help them understand the art of opera, how it differed from other forms of music and how it was to be appreciated. He didn't even explain to them what the opera they were going to see was about. Apparently, he was leaving the research to the students. The only one who had bothered to follow through was Kitty.
If Rogue had only known music class was like this. Due to her somewhat low grades in school, both the councilor and Professor Xavier thought it would be beneficial for Rogue to take a more productive elective than computer class. Rogue was quickly bored with it and the Professor recognized that Rogue was more artistically than technically oriented. Sure, Rogue was smart. She had a good head on her shoulders and could do well in school if she worked hard. But the girl had no real motivation. The things they learned meant almost nothing to her. Xavier believed that if Rogue had a chance to express herself more artistically, she would take more interest in the world around her, and maybe in turn do better in school. Rogue couldn't hide from the Professor that she had taken piano when she was younger, and still experimented with her guitar from time to time. For some reason Xavier believed she had a gift and wished for her to at least have an opportunity to pursue it. Rogue did not believe so strongly in herself, but it was no use trying to debate with the Professor.
So she was placed in music class. The class wasn't terrible, at least up to this point. They didn't get much homework except to practice and do a little research here and there. Mr. Elbert had hoped that Rogue would get private lessons and work to become a pianist, but that dream seemed too out there in her opinion. She agreed to bring in her electric guitar, and maybe try piano again. But it was too difficult for Rogue to find a tutor on her own. After all, didn't keeping up with training count a little more than music? She really didn't have time to find a tutor. Even if she had one her schedule was often packed.
This was the worst thing to come. The only types of operas that had electric guitars were rock operas. It was only just as she stepped off the bus that Rogue realized this fact and wondered if rock operas qualified as 'real' operas. She wasn't sure. She certainly didn't want to think that Kitty could be right, so she quickly dismissed the subject and continued to walk on with the rest of the class into the building.
The moment the group stepped into the theater, Rogue's breath had been taken away. The place was HUGE. The ceiling soared to a nearly unfathomable height, creating the perfect curve to carry the voices of the singers that would be performing on stage. It made it easy from one to realize just how small they were. Endless rows covered the floor and stalls lined the walls of the theater. There were also boxes that seemed to be carved out of the walls almost right next to the stage; at least from where the students were standing. They, of course, were the best seats in the house and provided the best views of both the stage and the orchestra pit. The entire scene was quite a jump from the theater at their school to this.
The students divided into groups and followed their assigned chaperone. Mr. Elbert had also made sure that each student had gotten their backstage passes for after the show. Apparently the music teacher had connections with this particular opera and had been able to arrange a meeting between the students and the performers. This was another 'clever' plan of Mr. Elbert's, as Rogue put it in her thoughts. Since the object was to help the students understand the elements of performing an art, it would greatly benefit them if they interviewed one member of either the cast or the orchestra on their experiences in performing arts. No one had been given a specific person. They were free to choose anyone they wished.
But all of that would come later. The important thing was for everyone to find their seats before the show began. Everyone had been required to dress nicely, if not completely formally, for this was the opera they were attending, not some rock concert. This meant all the students had arrived at school dressed in semi-formal dresses and ties, and were forced to walk around in this manner until they could board the bus about halfway through the morning. The only good thing about that experience was that once they were on the bus, they had the rest of the day off from school. The opera house they were going to was about two hours away, so by the time they returned to the school, it would be time to go home.
Kitty had chosen to wear an outfit she had bought just recently: a bright pink halter-strapped dress that was light, flimsy, and reached about five inches above her knees. To accompany the dress, she carried a hot pink handbag and white high-heeled sandals. Rogue wore her usual semi-formal outfit: black top with long navy blue skirt, a lavender scarf, long black opera gloves, and a chain that clung to two unused loop holes. While Kitty had made sure that her hair was nicely tucked up almost on the top of her head in a cute puffy bun, Rogue left her short hair down in a slightly untidy manner. It wasn't as if Rogue couldn't keep herself tidy, but since her hair was so short and she usually wore nothing in it to keep it in place, it sometimes became a little mussed up. She usually preferred it that way anyway.
While everyone took their seats, Rogue was led to a few rows behind the front row. It was probably, beside the boxes on the tiers, the best view one could hope for. The only thing that left her a little disappointed was the fact that she couldn't see the orchestra in the pit very well. On the other hand, that might have been better so as not to distract the audience from the main performance at hand. As she and other students and opera-goers began to take their seats, the members of the orchestra were assembling into the pit. Just as she finished organizing herself and sat down, Rogue's eye caught on of the orchestra members, a violinist, who had hesitated before going into the pit. He seemed slightly distracted and entranced as he stared towards the stage. It lasted for only a moment, but Rogue's almost thought that someone, or something, had been beckoning him from the stage, with the heavy red curtain drawn across it. He was holding his case under one arm, but no sheet music seemed to be evident. The girl merely assumed that he had already put his music at his place sometime before. His back had been toward her at the time he had been observing the stage. When he turned, his head was partly turned down. Despite this though, Rogue thought she was able to catch a saddened look on his face. A few questions began to cross Rogue's mind when she saw this. Why had he acted that way? Was something bothering him? Or had she really just imagined it all?
She barely had given it another thought before Kitty managed to get a seat right next to her. Rogue quickly reminded her friend that although she was sure she wouldn't like the show, that didn't give Kitty the liberty of chattering away in her ear. Kitty assured her that she would not do that at all, except maybe during the intermission. Can't wait, was Rogue's sarcastic thought in response.
It was only once they got their hands on the programs that they realized what the opera was. A few of the rowdy boys from the bus were sitting a couple of seats from Rogue's right, and one of them was trying to read the title.
"Le Nozze Di Figaro?" said one boy, pronouncing the Italian title very slowly and poorly. "What the hell does that mean?"
"Look below the title, you dunce-bucket!" snapped Rogue, a little peeved by their crudeness but still trying to keep her voice down.
A few of the boys snickered and looked further down. "The Marriage of Figaro. Oh God, a stupid play about a wedding! That's so gay!"
"It is not!" It was Kitty who snapped at the boys this time, who were becoming a little too loud.
The boys continued to chat among themselves how about lame this play sounded, and Rogue could hear Kitty's breath passing between clenched teeth. "Just ignore them," she whispered.
"I know," Kitty replied softly, "but don't you realize who wrote this opera? Mozart!"
"Oh, right." Rogue made a quick glance at the program just to be sure. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, just a little below the English title. She knew that Mozart was probably one of the greatest composers of all time, but the fact didn't meant anything to her yet. Maybe it would after the performance. Or maybe it wouldn't. She could only wait and see.
About a half an hour later, the lights dimmed and the curtain rose.
"Well, that SUCKED!"
It was the first thing Rogue heard as soon as they stepped out of the theater. She desperately wanted to punch the creep who said that.
Fortunately, she didn't have to. One of the chaperones, Mr. Jamison, was also the P.E. teacher at the school and was a real disciplinarian when he wanted to be. As soon as she saw him grab the boy's collar, Rogue knew she didn't have to see anymore. She turned away with a satisfied smile.
Of course, she had her own share in the disappointment. She hadn't expected herself to like it, but to her own surprise she had actually felt a bit down hearted. If she had understood the story and music better, would she have been more satisfied? She couldn't say. There were a few moments where the music really had some affect on her; some power and feeling that traveled through the air into the ears of the audience. There were even some moments when her foot was either swinging or tapping to the music. But they weren't many. Some of it became somewhat dragged out, and sometimes it seemed corny or silly.
She shook her head slightly. Now she wished she knew more about this type of music, just to have a better understanding of it. Kitty had anxiously asked if Rogue liked the performance. In all honesty, Rogue replied that she wasn't greatly impressed. But she didn't feel as if she had triumphed or anything over Kitty. Far from that, she felt somewhat deficient in really comprehending it. There were little language pads in front of each person that translated everything into English, but it was a little hard to keep up at times. It seemed detached, not truly connected psychologically.
Rogue's thoughts were broken as Mr. Elbert was attempting to gain everyone's attention.
"Alright, everyone! We're going to head backstage now. Remember your manners and ask insightful and earnest questions. This is a very beneficial opportunity for you to truly understand the trials and triumphs of musical theater. Seize this opportunity, and make the most of it. It may one day be of great service to you."
Most of the students were more concerned about getting a good grade, since these interviews were going to be graded. That was Mr. Elbert's one major requirement in order to make sure the students would try to remain focused. Rogue let out a weary sigh, pulled out the backstage pass from black leather purse, and followed the massive herd of grade-hungry (and not so grade-hungry) classmates.
The backstage was chaos. Everywhere people were running around like mad animals, furiously trying to do their jobs and be in the places they needed to be. Originally Kitty and Rogue were trying their best to stick together, since Mr. Elbert said they could work in partners and Kitty didn't want to get lost among the crowd.
But the inevitable happened. They got separated.
One minute Kitty was furiously clinging to Rogue's arm, while Rogue was practically dragging her teammate through the pandemonium. Suddenly she could feel Kitty bumping into someone on the other end. Her grip slipped very suddenly, and now Rogue was alone.
Oh great. Just great. We'll BOTH get lost in this madhouse.
Rogue decided it was best to find some place that was more spacious and would give her time to think. There also might be a better chance of finding someone in her class. Plus, she didn't like being in extremely crowded places due to her mutation. Of course, that was a worse case scenario, but she had learned that worse case scenarios liked to follow her around.
She did her best to avoid bumping into people, and she soon saw that the stage was big enough that people were more spread out. As she tried to make her way to the stage, she became momentarily distracted by someone letting out a startling cry. But soon the cry was followed by a few laughs seemingly from the same source. No one else seemed to either notice or care. Rogue rolled her eyes.
I wonder if anyone would notice some crew member dropping a set piece on his foot or an actor passing out right in the middle of the floor.
The thought did humor her slightly. And it was this thought that prevented her from being on alert when she turned around. She walked smack into another person.
A quick surge of rage and impatience soared through her as she was knocked onto the floor. She cursed herself several times for not watching where she was going, while at the same time cursing the person who was also not paying attention. Then she realized that sheets of paper where flying around her head.
Rogue looked at the person she had bumped into. He too had fallen to the floor. He was desperately trying to hold himself up with one hand while attempting to hold his violin case with the other. He was the violinist Rogue had seen descending into the orchestra pit before the performance. It was then she realized that all the papers that were now landing around her, and beginning to become scattered by inattentive pedestrians rushing by, was his music.
"Oh shit," she mumbled while frantically trying to gather up the papers. "I'm so sorry. Dammit, I'm such a klutz. Hang on, let me get them."
The poor girl was now crawling around on her hands and knees, in a nice skirt, trying to pick up this man's sheet music. It took the musician a moment to regain his balance before he too got down and began picking up his papers.
"It's quite alright," he replied.
She looked up at him. His tone had been slightly gruff, no surprise due to the unexpected collision and going around on the floor like a sweeper trying to pick up his things. But his voice still remained calm and refined. Rogue couldn't remember hearing a voice like his before. It sounded like that of – bass or baritone? Probably closer to baritone, the voice in between bass and tenor. It also sounded like that of a professional actor. His diction and pronunciation was so perfect Rogue wondered if he was British or some kind of foreigner. He spoke too perfectly to be American. Above all, it had a pleasant ring to it that she couldn't really describe. It wasn't even as if she really paid attention to other people's voices before, but somehow his had an effect on her.
She stared at him a little longer while she struggled to pick up the rest of the papers. She eventually had to look away though, to pay full attention to what she was doing. When she finally had gathered all the papers that she could get her hands on, she saw that they were mussed up, dirty, and bore an occasional footprint. This was the second time she wanted to kick herself. More heartily this time though, because this time her failings had been at another's expense.
"Oh, I'm so sorry. I-I wish I could somehow make it up to you. Really I do." She felt so pathetic. She knew there was nothing she could really do, except maybe to make new copies of his music. But she couldn't do that. She didn't know where to get it and there was no time. Angry with herself, she handed the papers back to the musician.
He seemed a little dismayed at first, but he quickly saw her fully felt remorse, and his countenance turned to kindness. "It's alright. It was just an accident. It is partly my own fault as well. You need not blame yourself so harshly. My maestro will have no problem replacing them."
Rogue looked at him, still concerned. "Won't he be upset?"
"Oh no, this sort of thing always happens. Besides, I don't really use the music that much. A lot of it is memorized."
Rogue allowed herself to smile slightly, seeing that the man was not upset. But the guilt still didn't go away. "Well, thanks. I had let my mind wander for a moment, that's why I didn't sense you coming."
This time the man gave her a curious look. "Sense?"
She flinched her gaze. "Well, I mean, I didn't see or hear you coming. Most of the time I'm usually alert. Using our senses is very important according to our teachers."
"Really?"
Rogue still didn't look at him. You idiot, shut up while you can. Are you going to spill everything to him? "Well, it's complicated. Never mind. The point is I should have been more aware, but I wasn't." She wasn't sure if her cheeks were flushed by now, but she was praying her hardest that they weren't. She didn't want to care if this man thought she was weird, but all the same she did a little.
She saw the man smile out of the corner of her eye. "Yes, that happens. It's worst when it happens during a performance. You try so hard to focus on what's happening, then you let yourself slip for one second and everything derails."
Rogue's smile, which had quickly vanished when her own thoughts began to derail, had returned in answer to his statement. "Yeah. Big set up for embarrassment."
"If I may say so, the important thing is to not let your mind be contained in the stage of the moment. Train your mind to think freely but still remain sharp. It's a delicate balance important not just for an artist, but for anyone who wishes to always be aware."
She nodded, then another thought hit her. "Sorry for changing the subject, but you just reminded me that I have to interview someone for my class. You know, learn something big and important to help us become better musicians."
The man suddenly became more excited. "You are a musician?"
"Well, kind of. I'm in the music class at my school. I know how to play the piano and the guitar."
He thought for a moment. "I know the piano, but I'm not that well acquainted with the guitar. Is it acoustic?"
"No, electric."
The man's mood changed again. He seemed slightly disappointed, but not all that surprised. "Are you in some kind of band?"
"Well, no. I guess I could be if I really wanted to. But I'm an independent at the moment. No major plans for the future."
"I assume you like rock and roll?"
Rogue took a moment herself to think. Who was supposed to be asking the questions, him or her? But she decided answering a few of his questions wouldn't do any harm.
"Actually, I'm more into dark stuff, angst. Ya know, Grunge, Evanescence, Avril Lavigne, that kind of thing. I'm guessing you prefer classical."
The man hesitated for a moment. "Well, yes, but not all of the conventional themes. I like some of the contemporary styles a bit more." Then he paused, studying Rogue's face cautiously. "Did . . . did you like the opera tonight?"
The way he spoke was a manner that Rogue had not been expecting at all. He seemed slightly anxious, almost as if he were hoping she would approve. And what if she didn't? She was reluctant to see how he would react. There was something close to, if not exactly, desperateness in his eyes. His eyes had been the strangest thing about him. Although he seemed not your average Joe overall, there was something particularly mysterious about those two orbs set in his face.
Perhaps his physical description would help the reader understand what Rogue felt. He was quite tall, about a head taller than the Goth. She guessed he was about 6'4'' or around that. He wore a tuxedo, but that wouldn't have been exceptional for a musician who had just performed the music for an opera, had she not noticed that his particular outfit seemed more old-fashioned than that of the other musicians. Most of them wore the typical waistcoat and pants with a white shirt, white vest, and white bow tie. This man, however, looked like he was wearing something from around the 19th century. His collar reached well up his throat, but instead of being held up by a bow tie, it was held up by a separate black collar that seemed to be clipped on or something. He also wore a black vest underneath a velvet waistcoat. His coal-black hair was slicked back with a slight reflective glare due to the light coming from the stage. His face had a smooth quality, almost unreal. She was slightly curious as to why, but she thought it better not to push the envelope. His eyes were the strangest things because they seemed detached with the rest of his face, yet they seemed to compliment with his personality. They lent a feeling of mystery and the unknown. They were very dark, almost as black as his hair, and it was nearly impossible to tell the difference between the iris and the pupil. Rogue also noticed that whenever he was in shadow, which had happened at that very moment, something happened with his eyes.
It was just as he asked her his question when part of a curtain next to them had been disturbed and drawn a bit more towards the couple. The musician's face was mostly covered by the curtain's shadow, and Rogue thought his eyes gave off a subtle yellow glow. She was almost convinced she had imagined it.
"Are you alright?"
Rogue blinked and shook her head slightly. "Yeah, sorry."
The musician still seemed a little anxious, but he continued. "I was just wondering if you enjoyed the opera today. I should understand by now that it's not a popular genre among young people at present. I just . . . well . . ." He didn't allow himself to finish, preferring what was in his thoughts to remain unsaid. But Rogue quickly understood.
"You mean," she replied softly, to make extra sure no one else could hear, "that you were just wondering if there were any of us who still cared?" She didn't speak in any sarcastic tone that could often be detected when she spoke, according to most of her teammates. She meant what she said in complete earnest, but she knew how people often interpreted her tone and feared that he would feel the same way. But when she looked at him face on, his eyes meeting hers, she couldn't find it. He did scowl, but not from any sign of sarcasm.
"Yes," he finally answered. She couldn't tell if he was ashamed or saddened. "Yes, I suppose that's correct. I know I seem to be presumptuous or judgmental, but . . . I really should apologize." He had lowered his head for a moment, then looked up again in her eyes. "I . . . I saw the look you had when I asked you the question. You were afraid to answer. Afraid of what I would think."
Rogue bit her lip. She hadn't realized that she had actually given that away. She had tried to keep a straight face, and yet he saw through it.
"I just . . . I guess I was . . . disappointed, in a way. I've never actually attended an opera before myself, so I didn't really know what to expect – "
"Except the typical," he put in, completing her thought before it had even fully processed. He seemed a little disturbed by something, as if someone was edging him on. Was she edging him on?
She wanted to avoid getting him upset, so she defended herself quickly. "It wasn't that it was bad. Really, I just didn't understand it. It's just not what I've been used to. I mean, I respect it and all but-"
The musician did something she never expected him to do. In a quick move, he came next to her, placed one hand on her shoulder, and kept the other up to put his index finger in front of his lips. He gently shushed her and led her a little further away from the other members of the cast and crew who had began listening to her stammered speech. Once he was sure no one else was trying to listen in, he looked at her again.
"It's okay," he said softly, "I understand. You haven't been given a fair chance yet. Here, I'll make you a deal." He reached into the inside pocket of his coat and pulled out an envelope. "I assume you are with the music class from Bayville High."
Rogue's mouth opened slightly. "How did you know?"
"All will be revealed in time. Here, take this letter. Your class will be leaving soon, and you have not yet conducted your interview with me yet."
The girl didn't know what hit her hardest: the fact that he knew all about the interview and that he had even remembered it, or that she had completely forgotten it and was now going to fail.
"Do not ask any questions. Not yet. Take this letter and turn it into your teacher the day you need to turn in your written interview. If the teacher finds the note acceptable, come to the opera this Saturday for the 2:00 performance. All accommodations will be paid for. If the teacher does not accept the note, you are not obligated to ever return to the opera, and may dismiss your meeting with me from your memory. Do we have a deal?"
What a deal he was striking! Rogue could hardly make any sense out of it. She stared at him as if he had five heads. Everything he had said was just a lot of babbling to her. What was worse was that he wouldn't even let her ask any questions. He only said, "If you do agree and the teacher accepts this note, you must come back to the opera. Do you acquiesce?"
Rogue allowed another moment to pass before she spoke, then finally she replied, "Alright. I'll do it, but only as long as after all of this, if I see you again, you will explain it."
The musician nodded and smiled. "It shall be done." Suddenly he turned his head for a moment, listening to the crowd not too far from them. Then he took her by the wrist and led her head-on. It was only while they were passing through the crowd that Rogue noticed the man had neither his instrument nor his music with him. "Hey, what happened to your things?"
He managed a momentary glance at her, where his smile extended in an almost mischievous manner. "Magic," he replied.
The Goth was almost stunned at how easily the musician manipulated his way through the crowd. It made her wonder how exactly they ended up bumping into each other. Before she knew it, they had exited the auditorium into a hall that led to the foyer. He firmly pressed the envelope into her hand. "Don't forget," he said, still smiling in that strange manner. "Saturday at 2 o'clock. Don't worry, there will probably be a new opera here by then."
"How can you be sure?" asked Rogue, remembering that it was Monday. Although she knew that the destined date was five days away, she wasn't sure that was enough time for an opera to be boosted out of a theater.
"I know how things circulate around here fairly well. Don't worry, we will have plenty of time to talk afterwards. Can you wait till then?"
She gave him an uncertain look. "How do you even know I'll be here?"
His expression changed slightly, his eyes adapting that dark, mysterious quality again. "Time can only tell."
How desperately she wished she could have asked more questions at that moment. Why had this man taken such an interest in seeing her, when they had only just met? She didn't want to be suspicious of him, but in these times safety and one's word were no guarantees. As if sensing the doubt that was filling her up, the musician gave her hand, the one which held the note, a gentle squeeze. "I only wish to become better acquainted with you. I know you probably find it hard to trust me, but I promise that I want nothing more than to know more about you. You have my word."
Rogue felt slightly ashamed as she spoke again, but she knew she needed to be honest. "Word and honor don't count for much nowadays."
"I am perfectly aware of that. But I do not wish to harm you in any way. You must believe me at least on that point. If you still don't trust me, you may bring a friend with you to the opera. Just assure me that if that is what you plan to do, I will still have an opportunity to speak with you in private."
The girl carefully considered this. She could still hear the hustle and bustle of the activity in the auditorium, but she quickly picked up another source of movement, from behind. Someone else was approaching. She quickly turned her head around and saw that the class was coming her way. She gasped slightly and turned back to the musician. "Very well. If all goes as you say, I'll be there."
"Thank you, miss." He gave her a courteous bow, and she in turn nodded politely. Then, just as she was about to turn and go, he caught her by the arm.
"Wait! I'm afraid I didn't catch your name."
Apprehension had block her senses for a moment, but then she was quickly assured and turned back to him. "Rogue. Rogue Darkholme."
"It has been a pleasure, Miss Darkholme. My name is Fenton. Erik Fenton." He politely extended his hand. Although she was somewhat pressured by the oncoming crowd, Rogue smiled and took his hand in a shake. Just then who would come running up to her but Kitty.
"Hey Rogue, where have you been? I've been, like, freaking out. I was afraid – " She stopped short when she noticed the tall man standing next to her friend. "Oh, who's this?"
"Uh, this is Mr. Fenton," Rogue quickly answered. Mr. Fenton nodded toward the new girl and politely shook her hand. For some reason, however, he didn't do it the same way he had shaken Rogue's hand. It was more formal, less eager. "A pleasure, miss . . .?"
"Oh, Kitty!" cried the girl very excitedly. Her excitement nearly threw both Rogue and the musician off balance. "Kitty Pryde! Oh man, I loved the show today! You guys were great! I'm afraid I couldn't hear you in particular, but I'm sure you sounded great all the same. I would've interviewed you if I had found you first, and if someone," shooting a glare at Rogue, "hadn't lost me in the crowd. So the guy I got stuck with was kinda old and stiff. But you sure aren't! Man, Rogue sure got lucky. She's always getting herself tangled up with the interesting guys. Like this one time-"
Rogue clapped one hand over the girl's mouth while she used the other to shove Kitty's arm in a lock behind her back, like what police officers do when they arrest a criminal. Rogue forced herself not to look at Mr. Fenton as she walked out of the building, knowing she would immediately turn as red as a tomato if she did. As long as she didn't see his reaction, she could take it. Rogue refused to speak with Kitty for the rest of the bus ride and for the rest of the day.
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Yeah, only a psycho could write this, right? Yeah, well, you're probably right. I'll let the psycho know. She's gotta be around here somewhere. ;)