The fluorescent lights of Macy's burned down onto her skin, and she wondered if her eyes would be damaged from the intense glare. Probably not, but she still wished she had taken a page from Mr. Summer's book and brought sunglasses with her.

"How do you think this looks?" Amara asked from the closest mirror, modeling a pale yellow shirt with a jade green, satin bolero jacket and a pink scarf with a yellow floral pattern in pastel shades draped elegantly around her neck. She wore distressed, light blue classic jeans with white leather ballet flats trimmed with black grosgrain ribbon.

"Smashing," Rogue replied, although she regretted that her voice was so toneless it seemed insincere.

"Are you being sarcastic?" Amara challenged.

"No," Rogue said truthfully. Amara did look great; the outfit worked well with Amara's black hair, dark eyes, and bronzed skin. If she were to wear those clothes, she would look and feel ridiculous, with her pale complexion and tall build.

"Aren't you going to get anything?" Amara questioned.

Contrary to her friend's beliefs of what constituted as a purchase, she had bought several items: a pair of formfitting black pants that accentuated her long legs, a shamrock green button-down cardigan with a deep V-neck to keep it from looking too proper, a sangria red shirt with ruched sleeves that went to her elbows, and a long-sleeved shirt with wide, diagonal royal blue and back stripes, and just low enough of a neckline to expose her collarbone.

Rogue couldn't help but feel proud that she had located these articles; normally she was unable to find any clothes that she liked in shops, as she didn't appreciate or wear the latest fashions. But now they were just a couple of school friends shopping together to kill time till they had to return to the field trip they had walked out on earlier in the day.

"You know," Amara continued, "if you wore the right clothes, you could have Mr. Summers wrapped around your finger, just like Ms. Frost."

". . . I don't know what you're talking about," Rogue told her.

"Please." Amara waved a hand dismissively. "I've seen the way you look at him. His girlfriend is away right now, so it's time to make your move before Dr. Grey returns. I could help you, if you wanted."

"That's not what I want," Rogue said firmly.

Amara shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Silence reigned between them for several tense moments.

Checking her watch, Rogue said to Amara, "We should get moving soon."

"Just a minute, Rogue," Amara told her, studying her reflection in the mirror. "I think I need a purse to complete this outfit."

It was odd, Rogue mused. Ever since she had come to the Institute, from the first day, when Jubilee had decreed that "'Anna Marie' doesn't suit you," and baptized her with the moniker, "Rogue," she had felt like a totally different person. As if she had evolved to a higher level of mind. She taken the name, believing it to be a sign of acceptance, and now that was the name all of the students recognized, to the degree that not even the teachers referred to her as "Anna Marie."

But were Rogue and Anna Marie two halves of the whole? Or was one dominant over the other? Would she have to abandon all of her humanity in order to embrace her mutation?

Her friend interrupted her thoughts. "You know, I honestly enjoy the Xavier Institute, as much as I complain about the place. True, the teachers have their favorites and the amount of work we receive is challenging, but it's not so bad once you adjust." Amara paused, watching her in the mirror. "What do you think?"

Rogue barely deliberated before responding. "I think it is refreshing."

Amara raised an eyebrow in the mirror, then shrugged. "I can never tell with you. So silent, all that black, you're like a shadow of an actual person."

It was a common criticism of her, as if being quiet was a major personality flaw. But honestly, who would listen to these people run their mouths if there was no one who was closemouthed?

She smiled. People were very judgmental, unsatisfied that not everyone met their personal standards. It was simply ludicrous.

She refused to allow herself to be judged. They couldn't form an opinion on her, lump her into a category, and place her in a box. She never spoke, so they never knew what she was thinking. If she had to be mute to maintain her independence, so be it.

Glancing in her direction in the mirror, Amara noticed her smile. "Creepy," she observed.

Rogue only smiled wider.

D'Fuentes: Spider-Man is about twenty-two here, but yeah, I'm aware of the friendship between him and Bobby and that the public knows about mutants. That's why this is an alternate universe. :)