13 January
Obsession.n. 1. the domination of one's thoughts or feelings by a persistent idea, image, desire, etc 2. the idea, image, desire, feeling, etc., itself 3. the state of being obsessed 4. the act of obsessing
"Ah'm a little worried about Hank," Rogue confessed to Scott and Jean on their way home from school. "He was fumin' about his chemistry class yesterday t' Remy and me, sayin' that the teacher won't let him expand his potential or something." Scott and Jean exchanged a glance, but didn't saying anything out loud. "Is this normal or something?"
"Well ... no," Jean said. "He can get wrapped up in his school work, but he doesn't normally get angry over it."
"Was this a one-time occurrence?" Scott asked.
"Ah don't think so. Ah passed by his room on mah way out the door and I don't evah remember it being a mess before. Ah don't mean t' be spyin' on him, but he had books and papers all over the floor, all unorganized and stuff."
Scott slowed the car as he came up to a stoplight. He thought to himself for a moment, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel as he stared intently at the light above his head. "As long as it doesn't interfere with his training and he doesn't hurt anyone, I won't butt in. It's his business."
"Yeah, Ah s'pose," Rogue reluctantly agreed. "Maybe Ah can help him by talkin' t' him ... say Ah need help with bio or somethin'."
"Biology is his strong suit," Jean said. "I remember him talking about our mutations and how if he could isolate something or another, he could figure out the secret behind our mutations when we had class together. I never really knew what he was trying to say when he got into the details, though."
Rogue shifted in the car seat, staring out the window as the scenery whipped past the car window. "Maybe Ah can ask him out of the mansion this weekend and clear his head."
"You can try."
When Scott pulled into the mansion's driveway, Rogue quickly dropped her stuff off at her room. She intended to ignore any homework she got until Sunday, or at least until she got someone to motivate her. She intended to go straight to Hank's room, but decided against it so as to give him a little time to himself after school. While she waited to bug him, she hung out in the kitchen with Elisabeth. Once she decided that she had waited long enough, she politely excused herself and slowly walked to Hank's room.
She knocked lightly on Hank's closed door.
"Yes?" Hank asked.
"Hey ... can Ah talk t' ya?"
She waited a few moments in silence, but was still startled when he opened his door.
"You can talk to me all night if you'd like. The question you want to ask is if you're allowed to."
"Um ... sure."
Hank stayed immobile in his doorway, not giving her entry nor chasing her away. Rogue wasn't sure if his behavior should be alarming or not.
"Do Ah have your permission, Hank?" Rogue questioned when he didn't say or do anything else. She found the situation increasingly awkward, but she was determined not to show it.
"For future reference, permission questions are begun with 'may'." He stepped aside and shuffled toward his desk, sitting down on his worn chair.
Rogue followed him inside. "The month?" she asked.
"Close the door behind your, please," Hank said as if she hadn't said anything. Rogue paused and did as she was told. She then walked into the center of the room, and after a moment's hesitation, took a seat on Hank's unkempt bed. "What is it you'd like to discuss?"
"This ... this behavior ... attitude you have t' day, is it because of yesterday?"
"Am I not allowed to have a bad day?" Hank demanded.
"Ah'm not sayin' that you're not!" Rogue quickly defended herself. "It's not becomin' of ya, Sugah."
"Is any negative behavior?"
"Knock it off an' answer me straightly!" Rogue snapped. She blinked as soon as she realized that yelling at him would not help the situation in the least bit. "Look, Ah'm sorry. If ya want t' explain what you tried t' yesterday, Ah'll listen. It's probably a li'l late in offerin', an' I apologize, but Ah want t' give you a hand like you tried my first day here. Ah wouldn't know from experience, but Ah hear that gettin' somethin' off yer shoulders helps in settlin' a mind. Ah'm worried 'bout you, Hank."
Hank appeared to ponder it for a moment, but he eventually shook his head. "No. You said so yourself yesterday that you can't help me. I'm not going to pretend that some miraculous answer will materialize in thin air. I'll pass the class, graduate, and work on what I want in my own time or on a job."
"What is it ya want t' work on?" Rogue ask quietly.
"Honestly? In time, I want to understand our mutant genetics and isolate the causes behind our mutations. That isn't what my project in chemistry was about, however."
"Then why be so angry?"
"I wouldn't call it anger," Hank began slowly. "Frustration would be a better word choice."
Rogue remained silent for a moment, studying the man in front of her. "Because someone said no? Lemme tell ya, Sugah, my whole life is a big no. Ya learn t' get over things."
"You've never had a burning question, the answer to which you must solve? The outcome to the question becomes paramount for your sanity, often bordering on obsession."
"Are we talkin' 'bout the same thing anymore?"
Hank sighed and shifted in his chair. "No, I suppose not. I'll get over it. In the meantime, I promise you'll I'll try my best in integrating back into society?"
Rogue blinked. "Yeah, Ah guess. See ya at dinner?"
"What's on the menu?"
"Good question. Ah dunno. How 'bout we go make our own menu?"
Hank hesitated. "As in, go out?"
"Why not?" Rogue grinned. "It's a Friday, an' Ah'm feelin' particularly sociable t'night. Don't tell me it'll be a first for both of us."
"Well ..."
"Then it's settled. Ah'll ... try t' figure it all out by six. Meet ya then?" She jumped up off his bed and whisked across his room to his door. "See ya, Sugah."