[ The way he looks at her, it's like he's trying to see some part of her soul. But it doesn't bother her the way it might with others. There's no feeling of invasion, no demand for all of her secrets. She has the feeling that he's only trying to get a sense of the shape of the puzzle, not trying to solve it completely in one go. Honestly, it's a little refreshing. Usually, people either want to dissect her, both physically and mentally, or they want nothing to do with her at all. This middle ground is seeming like an awfully nice place to live.
His question catches her completely off guard, confusion more than evident in her expression as she just stares at him for a moment. A vigilante? Why in heaven's name would he think that? But maybe that's a thing here, wherever here is. Maybe in this version of things, people are more out in the open when they go around saving others. (Whether that's changed how people see them is another question altogether.) The X-Men never had flashy costumes or anything but others had, so that would make sense. But she's not wearing—
Oh. Glancing down at herself, it's impossible to hold back the grimace at the sight of the uniform she's wearing, the same type of uniform she's worn for so many years now. Maybe someone who doesn't know any better would see it as some sort of costume, something utilitarian and functional for combat, with some purpose for all the zippers and detachable pieces that she can't even begin to fathom. All she sees when she looks at the grey material are the invisible scars beneath from countless days imprisoned in the lab that had once been her home. The first chance she gets, she'll be setting this thing on fire.
Forcing a polite smile that doesn't reach your eyes, she shakes her head, cordial as ever despite the chaos roaring around them. ] In another lifetime, maybe. But I don't want any trouble, sugar, despite how this may look. I'm just trying to get home.
Aren't we all. [ That slow drawl and the southern diminutive catches him off-guard for a second, unaccustomed to hearing what sounds like such an affectionate pet name from a total stranger. Frank hesitates, then shifts so he's back in the mouth of the alley and peering around the corner and down the street — keeping an eye on their surroundings, and making it clear that he's not blocking her from the exit. And those gears are still turning and turning in the back of his head. They're not being actively accosted anymore, but that the sky is still alight with a vivid searing purple like a bruise, and... god, is that a battle playing out by the Statue of Liberty?
He frowns. Then glances back at her. ]
Where's home? [ he asks, assuming the answer is, y'know, a neighbourhood or borough. Chelsea. Brooklyn. Staten Island, at worst. ] Maybe we can head out together, make it across the city safely. Things are looking a goddamn mess out here today, ma'am, I'd feel better if you weren't alone.
New York's kind of bizarre lately. I'm sure you're aware.
Isn't it always? [ She offers him a slight smile with humor she doesn't quite feel but that hopefully conveys how used she is to this particular brand of bizarre. No panicked damsel here, at least not now that she isn't about to suck the life out of some terrified idiot and his friends. They might have just met, but she has the distinct impression that her rescuer isn't the sort to grab a woman for no good reason. ]
I appreciate it but home's upstate and I'm pretty sure I'm not getting out of the city tonight even when all this eventually calms down.
[ Which it will. It always does. Something completely insane happens and the world finds a way to move on and go about daily life. Trains run (unless they're derailed), people report to work (unless buildings were demolished), and life goes on. Surely, that still has to hold true in this timeline. ]
Really, it's okay, I'm not your burden to worry about. You just get home safely, yourself, alright? [ Because he doesn't need to be pulled any further into her mess. But even as she says it, another crash sounds, this one ringing louder than the rest and leaving her flinching at the screech of metal. ]
[ Frank's earth-brown gaze snaps to the sound of that crash in the distance, his heavy brow furrowed and thoughtful, assessing the potential level of danger. There's the familiar sounds of masonry crumbling. The smell of dust in the air. The wail of sirens. And so his brain is already cataloguing the peril of the day: this sounds like Avengers-level bullshit. This isn't his wheelhouse. This is a hunker down and lock the doors and hope it all blows over kind of day. ]
Upstate? Yeah, no, you're shit out of luck. They usually cancel all the trains when things like this go down. [ It was ridiculous that this had become commonplace enough that he could mention it as a travel disruption, but so it went. And NYC was home, no matter how insane it had become in the years since the attempted Chitauri invasion, so Frank couldn't bring himself to move away. Even when he'd left on a soul-searching roadtrip after everything with Billy, he'd still drifted back eventually. ]
[ Aside from that flinch at the sudden sound, there's no panic in Rogue, just a sort of calm acceptance with a hint of nerves around the edges. Somehow, popping up into this new timeline in the middle of chaos feels more normal than popping up into actual normalcy would have. She's lived through war, survived countless battles that were far more chaotic than this, and she's faced the world as a terrified teenager all on her own. But she's not that scared little girl anymore and she can do this.
(Of course, if a Sentinel suddenly comes stomping around the corner, all bets are off. Panicked terror won't begin to describe the emotions that will overtake her in that circumstance.) ]
I'll be fine.
[ Which is polite southern speak for no, she doesn't have money or even a damn clue what she's going to do to make it through the night, but she's not looking for charity, either. She'll figure it out. Somehow. ]
[ It's obvious from that light, sardonic tone that he's skeptical. And probably the smart play here is to simply leave her alone and let her go on her way — the woman's got powers, she can probably take care of herself even better than he can — but, well, nobody ever accused Frank Castle of doing the smart play. That old-fashioned chivalrous streak keeps coming out in annoying ways and inopportune moments, particularly when there's a woman in need.
She might not be his burden to carry, but he's bad at discarding burdens.
After a moment, he instinctively holds out his hand and offers an actual introduction (even if it's a lie, because his life is full of lies): ]
I'm Pete. Pete Castiglione.
[ Then, remembering what her hands are capable of, he lets his sink back down by his side. ]
C'mon. Literally any other day, I'd buy that, but there's glowing purple portals appearing all over the goddamn city. This is the kind of day people gotta look out for each other.
[ She's grateful he pulls his hand back, even if it stings just as much as it always has. He's seen what she can do, so of course, he's rightfully wary of her touch. The fact that he's still willing to help her says a lot about him, though she expects he'll change his mind when he learns the specifics of her gift. Even back at the mansion, most people had been nervous around her; she can't expect anything different now.
It would be smarter to turn down his offer again, force her way past him and disappear into the crowd. But... She's tired, she's so tired, and she really does need help from someone. So after a long conflicted moment, she finally nods, crossing her arms and feeling like that lost girl again. ]
Okay. [ She nods again, a bit more nervously this time. ] Thank you, Mr. Castiglione.
You're welcome, miss...? [ He lets the question dangle with a pointed look, waiting to find out the woman's name. As soon as she introduces herself, though, then they're on the move. Back out onto the street and striding through the now-sparse crowd, trying to make their way across the avenues and towards safety. The first subway station he tries to take them to, the status display tells them that all the lines are suspended. The first taxi which passes them, its light shows it's not taking passengers.
Then the second taxi passes. Then the third. They haven't seen a bus in a while, either. ]
Looks like we're hoofing it, [ Frank sighs. But he's a New Yorker; he's used to walking, it's fine. ] There's a diner near my place, open twenty-four hours, they ought to still be open now. You wanna camp out there and see if the trains get up and running again? You can keep track of it on your phone.
[ He's not offering up his apartment. Not just yet and not straight off the bat. That road goes both ways; the smart move is to stay in public spaces, no sane woman's gonna go home with a complete stranger in a situation like this, and he never lets anyone into his home besides. It's a security risk. (And for one, it'd be hard to explain all the guns and the stacks of ammo.) ]
[ The name feels foreign on her tongue when she gives it to him, like it belongs to someone else. And maybe it does — she's certainly not that naive little girl anymore. But it's safer to wear a mask, pretend to be someone who isn't just barely holding themself together, so she wraps it around herself like a suit of armor as they move through the streets and face one transportation disappointment after another. ]
Yeah, that— That sounds like a good plan.
[ She doesn't explain that she doesn't have a phone. He's already aware she has no money, adding no one on top of that might have him asking more questions she can't answer. No, there are bound to be other stranded souls passing time in the diner while waiting for the trains to start up again, so she'll just have to keep an ear out. And if they don't before they part ways...
Well, there are lots of shelters in a city this size. Or she could hole up in a public bathroom with a door that locks. Neither would be the worst place she's ended up in her life. After the lab, nothing else seems quite as bad.
She tries her best to keep up with him as they walk, though her stamina isn't what it used to be and she flags within the first few blocks. Pushing herself is the only option, though, so she keeps moving, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other and staying upright. ]
[ They're marching along in awkward, not-quite-companionable silence; he's only good at casual conversation when he specifically chooses to be. But Frank notices, after a while, that Marie's fallen quiet as she has to focus on keeping up with him, starting to work on catching her breath along those long avenues. Frank isn't that tall, but he has a quick, bullish kind of stride. So he slows down and eases up his pace.
Odd, for a woman who'd been so quick in a fight; he'd expected her to be in better shape. ]
You alright? That purple light didn't do anything to you?
[ Shit. She can't exactly explain about being out of shape due to having been imprisoned for years, nor is it really the time to get into the fighting training that had been brought back up to the surface because of the people she'd absorbed in the last 24 hours. So she just shakes her head, making the effort to even out her breathing a bit more, which is easier to do now that he's slowed down a little. ]
Just the adrenaline starting to wear off, y'know? I'll be okay.
[ She hates how easy it still is to lie, but it's the only way for her to survive. ]
[ Frank is innately paranoid and skeptical, but he doesn't have any reason to doubt her, so he tells himself to just swallow it for now. ]
You got any theories? About what it might be. [ His hands burrowed into the pockets of his jacket, shoulders squared in his jacket, he tilts his chin towards the sky: where it's still lit up in strange and eerie ways, mostly clustered around the south end of the island. He's glad they're not in the Financial District. Doesn't like whatever the hell is going on by the Statue of Liberty. ]
[ Internally, she flinches at the question, part of her wondering if he'd asked because he too assumes she had something to do with all of this. But the rational part of her mind reasons that there's no accusation in his tone and he wouldn't be nearly so pleasant if he did think this was somehow her fault. ]
Could be a lot of things. [ She's no scientist but she's seen more than enough in her time to hazard some potentially outlandish guesses, depending on what all this timeline has had to deal with. ] Aliens. Dimensional rifts... Giant robots?
[ The last comes out as more of a question than she'd like, but she's suddenly desperate to know. Are there sentinels here? Or anything like them? ]
What, like giant Transformers or something? Shit, that’ll be the day.
[ Frank huffs a gravelly laugh — she’s joking, surely — but a moment later, he seems to realise that that dangling question mark sounds far more tentative than he’d expected. And so he shoots her a glance askance, his brow furrowing as he considers it. ]
I mean, I guess it’s technically possible. We’ve had aliens. So who the fuck even knows anymore. Not lookin’ forward to seeing Godzilla and a robot duking it out in the Hudson one of these days, though. Seeing that kinda thing in-person just doesn't hit the same as it did in the cartoons when I was a kid.
[ Relief floods through her when he confirms that giant robots are, in fact, not a thing in this timeline. Not yet, anyway. Of all the things that could go wrong for her in this place, at least this one small thing went right. Maybe the universe isn't completely out to get her after all. ]
No, it really doesn't. [ She agrees with a quiet laugh of her own, only partially forced through her exhaustion. There's been a whole lot of stuff in her life that's been weirder than anything in the crazy Saturday morning cartoons that played while she was growing up, so she absolutely understands where he's coming from.
Now that they're having something resembling a conversation, Rogue shifts the topic over to her rescuer, saying the first thing that comes to mind. ]
You handled yourself pretty well back there, sugar. Were you in the service?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
His question catches her completely off guard, confusion more than evident in her expression as she just stares at him for a moment. A vigilante? Why in heaven's name would he think that? But maybe that's a thing here, wherever here is. Maybe in this version of things, people are more out in the open when they go around saving others. (Whether that's changed how people see them is another question altogether.) The X-Men never had flashy costumes or anything but others had, so that would make sense. But she's not wearing—
Oh. Glancing down at herself, it's impossible to hold back the grimace at the sight of the uniform she's wearing, the same type of uniform she's worn for so many years now. Maybe someone who doesn't know any better would see it as some sort of costume, something utilitarian and functional for combat, with some purpose for all the zippers and detachable pieces that she can't even begin to fathom. All she sees when she looks at the grey material are the invisible scars beneath from countless days imprisoned in the lab that had once been her home. The first chance she gets, she'll be setting this thing on fire.
Forcing a polite smile that doesn't reach your eyes, she shakes her head, cordial as ever despite the chaos roaring around them. ] In another lifetime, maybe. But I don't want any trouble, sugar, despite how this may look. I'm just trying to get home.
no subject
He frowns. Then glances back at her. ]
Where's home? [ he asks, assuming the answer is, y'know, a neighbourhood or borough. Chelsea. Brooklyn. Staten Island, at worst. ] Maybe we can head out together, make it across the city safely. Things are looking a goddamn mess out here today, ma'am, I'd feel better if you weren't alone.
New York's kind of bizarre lately. I'm sure you're aware.
[ Little does he know! ]
no subject
I appreciate it but home's upstate and I'm pretty sure I'm not getting out of the city tonight even when all this eventually calms down.
[ Which it will. It always does. Something completely insane happens and the world finds a way to move on and go about daily life. Trains run (unless they're derailed), people report to work (unless buildings were demolished), and life goes on. Surely, that still has to hold true in this timeline. ]
Really, it's okay, I'm not your burden to worry about. You just get home safely, yourself, alright? [ Because he doesn't need to be pulled any further into her mess. But even as she says it, another crash sounds, this one ringing louder than the rest and leaving her flinching at the screech of metal. ]
no subject
Upstate? Yeah, no, you're shit out of luck. They usually cancel all the trains when things like this go down. [ It was ridiculous that this had become commonplace enough that he could mention it as a travel disruption, but so it went. And NYC was home, no matter how insane it had become in the years since the attempted Chitauri invasion, so Frank couldn't bring himself to move away. Even when he'd left on a soul-searching roadtrip after everything with Billy, he'd still drifted back eventually. ]
You got money for a hostel or something?
no subject
(Of course, if a Sentinel suddenly comes stomping around the corner, all bets are off. Panicked terror won't begin to describe the emotions that will overtake her in that circumstance.) ]
I'll be fine.
[ Which is polite southern speak for no, she doesn't have money or even a damn clue what she's going to do to make it through the night, but she's not looking for charity, either. She'll figure it out. Somehow. ]
no subject
[ It's obvious from that light, sardonic tone that he's skeptical. And probably the smart play here is to simply leave her alone and let her go on her way — the woman's got powers, she can probably take care of herself even better than he can — but, well, nobody ever accused Frank Castle of doing the smart play. That old-fashioned chivalrous streak keeps coming out in annoying ways and inopportune moments, particularly when there's a woman in need.
She might not be his burden to carry, but he's bad at discarding burdens.
After a moment, he instinctively holds out his hand and offers an actual introduction (even if it's a lie, because his life is full of lies): ]
I'm Pete. Pete Castiglione.
[ Then, remembering what her hands are capable of, he lets his sink back down by his side. ]
C'mon. Literally any other day, I'd buy that, but there's glowing purple portals appearing all over the goddamn city. This is the kind of day people gotta look out for each other.
no subject
It would be smarter to turn down his offer again, force her way past him and disappear into the crowd. But... She's tired, she's so tired, and she really does need help from someone. So after a long conflicted moment, she finally nods, crossing her arms and feeling like that lost girl again. ]
Okay. [ She nods again, a bit more nervously this time. ] Thank you, Mr. Castiglione.
no subject
Then the second taxi passes. Then the third. They haven't seen a bus in a while, either. ]
Looks like we're hoofing it, [ Frank sighs. But he's a New Yorker; he's used to walking, it's fine. ] There's a diner near my place, open twenty-four hours, they ought to still be open now. You wanna camp out there and see if the trains get up and running again? You can keep track of it on your phone.
[ He's not offering up his apartment. Not just yet and not straight off the bat. That road goes both ways; the smart move is to stay in public spaces, no sane woman's gonna go home with a complete stranger in a situation like this, and he never lets anyone into his home besides. It's a security risk. (And for one, it'd be hard to explain all the guns and the stacks of ammo.) ]
no subject
[ The name feels foreign on her tongue when she gives it to him, like it belongs to someone else. And maybe it does — she's certainly not that naive little girl anymore. But it's safer to wear a mask, pretend to be someone who isn't just barely holding themself together, so she wraps it around herself like a suit of armor as they move through the streets and face one transportation disappointment after another. ]
Yeah, that— That sounds like a good plan.
[ She doesn't explain that she doesn't have a phone. He's already aware she has no money, adding no one on top of that might have him asking more questions she can't answer. No, there are bound to be other stranded souls passing time in the diner while waiting for the trains to start up again, so she'll just have to keep an ear out. And if they don't before they part ways...
Well, there are lots of shelters in a city this size. Or she could hole up in a public bathroom with a door that locks. Neither would be the worst place she's ended up in her life. After the lab, nothing else seems quite as bad.
She tries her best to keep up with him as they walk, though her stamina isn't what it used to be and she flags within the first few blocks. Pushing herself is the only option, though, so she keeps moving, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other and staying upright. ]
no subject
Odd, for a woman who'd been so quick in a fight; he'd expected her to be in better shape. ]
You alright? That purple light didn't do anything to you?
no subject
Just the adrenaline starting to wear off, y'know? I'll be okay.
[ She hates how easy it still is to lie, but it's the only way for her to survive. ]
no subject
[ Frank is innately paranoid and skeptical, but he doesn't have any reason to doubt her, so he tells himself to just swallow it for now. ]
You got any theories? About what it might be. [ His hands burrowed into the pockets of his jacket, shoulders squared in his jacket, he tilts his chin towards the sky: where it's still lit up in strange and eerie ways, mostly clustered around the south end of the island. He's glad they're not in the Financial District. Doesn't like whatever the hell is going on by the Statue of Liberty. ]
no subject
Could be a lot of things. [ She's no scientist but she's seen more than enough in her time to hazard some potentially outlandish guesses, depending on what all this timeline has had to deal with. ] Aliens. Dimensional rifts... Giant robots?
[ The last comes out as more of a question than she'd like, but she's suddenly desperate to know. Are there sentinels here? Or anything like them? ]
no subject
[ Frank huffs a gravelly laugh — she’s joking, surely — but a moment later, he seems to realise that that dangling question mark sounds far more tentative than he’d expected. And so he shoots her a glance askance, his brow furrowing as he considers it. ]
I mean, I guess it’s technically possible. We’ve had aliens. So who the fuck even knows anymore. Not lookin’ forward to seeing Godzilla and a robot duking it out in the Hudson one of these days, though. Seeing that kinda thing in-person just doesn't hit the same as it did in the cartoons when I was a kid.
no subject
No, it really doesn't. [ She agrees with a quiet laugh of her own, only partially forced through her exhaustion. There's been a whole lot of stuff in her life that's been weirder than anything in the crazy Saturday morning cartoons that played while she was growing up, so she absolutely understands where he's coming from.
Now that they're having something resembling a conversation, Rogue shifts the topic over to her rescuer, saying the first thing that comes to mind. ]
You handled yourself pretty well back there, sugar. Were you in the service?