Jason
The stage is set: It is an empty room, the sort lined with mirrors on two walls and a stack of various workout equipment - yoga mats, overlarge inflatable balls, steps - stored along a third and in a large supply closet. Windows cut high in the fourth let in streams of daylight without allowing much of a view in or out. Currently, the room is floored with large blue mats to cushion any fall and is entirely empty save for the young woman who reserved it. She sits cross-legged in blue yoga pants and a black sports bra, red hair cropped short and close to her head. She waits.
Jason enters, with his powerful 'fro and a rather scruffier garb than usual. Old sweats, battered at the elbows and knees. They bag all around his body, a bit large.
Green eyes blink open at the sound of the door, and Mystique's lips touch with a light smile. Her fingers curl down over the curve of her knees as she regards him. "Jason," she greets.
"Dearest," is Jason's cover for perhaps not knowing how to address Mystique, or just to be obnoxious. Who can say. "I expect to hurt tonight."
Mystique's smile stretches wider as she pushes up to her feet, a smoothly feline motion that carries all the grace she does not normally display these days. "Do you? I'm not certain whether that displays little faith in my abilities, or a great deal of faith."
"I assure you the latter. You know I'm a lightweight and as agile as a fallen pillow." Jason adopts a stance that consists of lowering his center of balance a little. Well.
"You haven't been keeping up?" Mystique wonders, slanting a sideways glance at him as she crosses on light, bare feet to the door he entered by. A smooth click signifies the turning of a lock - privacy. Once accomplished, yoga pants and sports bra dissappear in turn to be replaced by the smooth comfort of skin and scales. She rolls her neck lightly and stretches her shoulders, as if breaking in the form.
"I've lost some weight," is positively tragic. Jason draws it out with almost an accent, his eyes half-lidding as he watches her.
Mystique tsks lightly, a touch of her tongue against the back of her teeth, and she shakes her head as she begins a slow circle. "Not what I asked," she points out.
"But what I answered," Jason counters, moving his feet as little as possible to keep her still in his peripheral vision.
Mystique's smile flashes momentarily broad, threatening toward a laugh. She stops and turns to face him fully. "Thank you for coming," she offers, very politely. "Are you ready? I /will/ try not to hurt you too badly."
"I'm ready. But /please/ get it over with. My legs are just /aching/ with anticipation." Jason bounces on his heels just a wee.
Mystique lifts a single hand for a beckon that is invitation and taunt and challenge, and rocks forward onto the balls of her feet.
Jason hops once, leans forward, and swings forward in a low step, jabbing a fist toward Mystique's gut.
Mystique's reaction is swift and somewhat delightedly - if perhaps overly - acrobatic. A twirl and then a flip carries her away from Jason's fist and to one side, just behind his left shoulder. A fast lean into a roundhouse kick aims at that shoulder.
Jason . . . ducks. It is a rapid sprawl of a duck that spreads his legs wide apart, but the kick flies over his head.
Mystique is grinning as she regains her balance and moves forward after him, stealing a blow that he has little time to escape before dancing backward to let him regain his footing.
Jason sprawls onto all fours, fingertips and knees, and then uses the momentum for a rough, if competent, somersault. It at least brings him onto his feet.
Mystique makes an approving noise deep in the back of her throat and circles around again before moving forward for another jab. It's low and easy, clearly broadcast in her movements.
Jason does not trust it. But he moves forward to meet it, a little rapid to her slow, high kneed.
It is what it seems - an easy open, offered to Jason as he warms to the fight. Her blow bounces of and she adds a second, just as clearly broadcast, if faster. Testing. Working toward his limits.
Jason inclines himself to the side, aiming for this blow to slide off as well (he hopes) as he makes a knuckle strike for her ... neck, really.
It connects, but as a glancing blow rather than a full-forward one, and Mystique allows the same for his before she spins back and out with a bit of a twitch in her step and a faint frown ghosting across her features.
"Step it up?" Jason asks, and if he is tired, he's concealing it (you know, probably). He persists, jabbing again. Grrg.
"Is there more?" Mystique wonders, brows lifting as she raises an arm to block the blow and slides into several herself.
"Mmm," Jason pushes between his lips-- and drops onto his rear end, hands braced back to hold him sitting. Kicks up from there.
Mystique's lips twitch slightly as she watches him and drops back into a wide, loose circle. Her steps are careful and balanced as she holds back and, for the moment, observes.
Jason has nothing to kick, so he rolls his knees in closer to his stomach and rolls back to his feet, just in time to lunge again. He is not very creative on his feet.
Mystique is both creative and quick, and the next several moments are a routine of blow-block-dodge, with a few moments of clear offering from Mystique and a few moments of decent scores by Jason. Although the blows are strong enough to sting, it's unlikely that they-- well. That /many/ of them, anyway, will bruise.
Jason is not doing quite so well. He does better than he really has much right to, but the exchange is a bit uneven. It is after those lot and lot of bruises that Jason's stance changes a bit and he gets definitely /faster/. Not quite Mystique speed, but only a hair under.
Mystique's smile spreads and spreads until she's flashing and shifting with a full-out grin in the wake of Jason's speed. After a few minutes of this she pulls back into a loose stance and raises her brows at Jason. "Improvement," she remarks through heavy breaths.
"I had to warm up," Jason says, pulling his stance low and resting for a second. He's just a bit smug.
"Warming up does wonders," Mystique responds, and she moves forward again for a series of blows, faster and harder and more precise this time.
Jason /dodges/ a fair few, although not every one. Not that fast. But he's still returning startlingly good blow for blow.
And again and again, level increased until Mystique is working for every blow she lands and every blow she dodges, and taking more than a few hits in the course of it. She is, from all appearances, working herself toward exhaustion - and entirely pleased.
Jason is wearing, entirely, a smirk on his face (if he has politely worked up a sweat in the meantime). He delivers a pair of too-rapid kicks and-- steps back. "I think my luck's about to run out."
"Wearing down?" Mystique wonders, rocking back for a few stolen breaths as she watches him.
"Yeah. I'm oh rather frail." Jason mock-fans himself with damp fingers.
"Need a break?" Mystique returns, jerking her head toward a bottle of water in the corner. "Little pause for a drink, Jason?"
"Appreciate that." Jason rather slumps off in that direction.
After a pause and a satisfied roll of her shoulders, Mystique follows. For the moment, she remains silent, and it's clear that despite her words, the latter half of the session has worn on her. It's a satisfied sort of exhaustion.
Jason drinks about half the bottle with a kind of hastiness which will make him pee in the very near future, we are sure. "Aaah."
Mystique leans against a mirrored wall to sink slowly to the floor, letting her legs stretch long before her. Her head slants back into the wall and she closes her eyes briefly before blinking her gaze over to Jason.
Jason sets the bottle down and leans against a not-quite-Mystique's wall. "So."
"Thank you," Mystique says quietly, gaze drifting away again. "I very much needed that."
"Good," is short. "I was hoping not to bore you."
"You could be that good on your own, you know," Mystique suggests quietly. "If you worked at it."
"A lot. Worked a whole lot," Jason corrects. "It'll take me some years."
"Only if you actually work," Mystique reminds. Her eyes close again, and her breath grows gradually quieter and steadier. "You should, you know. You may not always be able to do what you did today."
"I'm aware. Telepathic dampeners are rather popular in certain circles. But the best pah-pah," he hits the air, "in the world won't do anything against a gun. Or certain powers."
Mystique turns her head toward Jason and lifts her brows slightly. "Not in the least true."
"Well, you're a different matter than me."
"I have spent a great deal of time working to become so."
"You have a lot more time than I."
"Perhaps." Mystique pauses and watches Jason for a moment before she adds, "But we all start somewhere. I was young once, too."
"I have friends to be the brawn for me."
"That's riskier to assume that the availability of your mutation."
Jason shrugs. "Well, you know. I'm a bad lone agent."
"Mmm." The sound from Mystique is quiet and rather unreadable, and afterward she falls silent again, head turned forward.
"Again. Not like you."
Mystique remains silent. After a moment, she leans forward to claim a second water bottle.
Jason folds his arms and stretches his neck back. Mmph.
Mystique tips her head back to let cool water trickle down her throat and then lifts the bottle to send it splashing over her forehead. For the moment, she does not look at Jason.
Jason wipes one finger along his hairline. "So."
"Thank you." Mystique speaks the words again and pushes up to her feet, form rippling into something human once more. "If you ever have the desire to practice, you're welcome to give me a call. Arranging the space is not difficult."
Jason snorts, and admits, "You might be a /little/ safer to practice with than Toynbee or Sarah. Not sure about that. But thanks."
"I barely bruised you," Mystique objects with lifted brows and a glance over her shoulder. "Not until you were fast illusion, at any rate."
"I mean, if I managed to piss you off. You weren't pissed. You were playing. They piss easier."
"Do you intend to piss me off?"
"No."
"Then I expect we will be safe."
Jason gives Mystique a thumb's up.
If Mystique sees it, she does not acknowledge it. Instead, she crosses to the door and flips the lock over without comment.
"Good night!" Jason calls back.
"Good night, Jason," Mystique answers evenly.
"If you ever need a bed-warmer," is just to be obnoxious.
Mystique's brows arch neatly upward. "You know someone appropriate?" she wonders. Obnoxious.
"You can be anyone I want, I can be anyone you want," Jason spreads his arms, world-embracing. "It's perfect."
"You can look like anyone I want," Mystique replies with a faint smile. "Don't ever fool yourself, Jason. It's not the same thing."
"It's close enough," Jason dismisses.
"Is it?" Mystique turns to study Jason, expression distant. "Would it be enough for me to look like your betraying whore? What did she look like, Jason?" She shifts, then, into something young and pretty with dark hair and big, brown doe-eyes. "Was she dark?" Another shift into blonde and sweet, a pretty blush upon her cheeks. "Fair?"
"Dark," Jason identifies, his eyes again half-lidding and his expression blank. "I don't want her any more."
Blue again in an instant, despite the unlocked door. Mystique's eyes glow golden on Jason as she watches him. "What do you want?"
"I honestly couldn't tell you."
"Then whatever would I be?" Mystique wonders with a wry twist of her lips.
"Could be you!"
Mystique's expression flattens and she turns away, pacing again for that water bottle. "Now I'm certain /that's/ not what you want."
"While I'm indecisive, it may as well be."
"Are you that lonely, Jason?"
"Are you?"
"I'm not the one who suggested it."
"I always suggest it." Jason thumps his chest. "I'm just that virile."
"Yes, of course." Mystique glances at him over her shoulder, bottle held before her. "When did you stop wanting her?"
"After I stopped caring enough to be angry."
Mystique turns back to the wall, but her expression is clearly visible in the mirror. Her lips twist unhappily. "And when was that?"
"Months ago. Hellfire Club and its pawns-- none of that matters any more."
"Why not?"
Jason shrugs. "Can't beat them. They're not even the same organization any more."
"And so she doesn't matter anymore? "
"She was a pawn. Wasn't even her choice, what she did. What she was. Any of it."
"She doesn't matter to you because she never loved you," Mystique clarifies.
"Yes. Sure."
"You'll have to forgive me if I am less than convinced by your convictions."
"You know what?" Jason tucks his hands behind himself, "I've never been very good at sex. Even terribly interested. It's a control thing, that's all."
"So hire a hooker," Mystique bites off, gaze suddenly sharp in the mirror's reflexion. "I am hardly a geisha, Jason Wyngarde."
"It's /also/ a company thing," he adds. Light to the sharp. "I couldn't control you. The other way around, maybe."
That startles Mystique into silence for a moment, and she turns to study Jason, eyes narrowed. After a moment she wonders, "You find your other companions easily manipulated?"
"I tend to be attracted to vulnerable people."
"Not what I asked."
"No."
"Are you feeling a little bored, Jason?" Mystique wonders, turned to pace toward him once more. There's a predatory gleam to her eye as she prowls with feline grace. "Not finding a challenge up to your standards?"
Jason sloe-eyes a glance between those half-lids. "Oh, I'm challenged."
"Are you?" Mystique wonders, hollow tones dipped low and a touch dangerous. "By what?"
"Expanding my boundaries." Jason tips a knuckle under his chin.
"To?"
Jason hitches up a shoulder.
Mystique hitches up a brow.
"New frontiers."
"Vague," Mystique spits in derision. "Words. Illusions. Be /tangible/, Jason. Be daring."
"Tangible." Jason pulls out a snicker. "I'm attracted to more than women. There you are."
The roll of Mystique's eyes is deeply heartfelt, and the irritation in her voice is clear. "So if you sleep with me, I can be a man for you without you /really/ having to sleep with a man. Honestly, Jason. It hardly works like that."
"I would have /never/ asked you to shift male. That would be /bizarre!/" Jason unfolds his arms to flick his fingers.
"What /would/ you have asked me to shift to?"
"I don't know."
"I'm sure." Scaled arms rise to cross neatly beneath her breasts and Mystique stares at Jason across the space of several feet.
"I'm terminally indecisive /and/ a coward. What would you ask me to shift to?" Jason is so agile.
"I have no desire to sleep with you," Mystique points out practically.
Jason sighs /tragically/. "I know. No one does."
"I'm certain you can find someone willing. After all." Her lips twist distastefully. "You can be their fantasy."
"Wouldn't that be unselfish of me."
"So instead you ask me. Why is that?"
"Because I always do."
"Because you're certain I'll say no."
"Yep."
"And if I don't, you don't have to particularly worry that you'd have to deal with /me/."
"Uh." Jason stops half-lidding his eyes. "I'm not sure what you mean."
"I can be anyone you want," Mystique reminds on a low purr, and her skin shades into dusky tones, dark-haired again, although this time the jawline and figure are distinctly male.
Jason puts his hand over his eyes. "I don't want anything. I don't know /what/ I want, I don't know /who/ I want."
"Go away, Jason," Mystique instructs wearily. "You exhaust me."
"You're closer to the door."
"I paid for the room," she snaps.
"Fine." Jason drops his hand and starts doorward. Quickly.
Mystique remains where she is, arms folded tight across her chest.
Mystique wants some stress relief. She calls Jason.
Oops?
Jason enters, with his powerful 'fro and a rather scruffier garb than usual. Old sweats, battered at the elbows and knees. They bag all around his body, a bit large.
Green eyes blink open at the sound of the door, and Mystique's lips touch with a light smile. Her fingers curl down over the curve of her knees as she regards him. "Jason," she greets.
"Dearest," is Jason's cover for perhaps not knowing how to address Mystique, or just to be obnoxious. Who can say. "I expect to hurt tonight."
Mystique's smile stretches wider as she pushes up to her feet, a smoothly feline motion that carries all the grace she does not normally display these days. "Do you? I'm not certain whether that displays little faith in my abilities, or a great deal of faith."
"I assure you the latter. You know I'm a lightweight and as agile as a fallen pillow." Jason adopts a stance that consists of lowering his center of balance a little. Well.
"You haven't been keeping up?" Mystique wonders, slanting a sideways glance at him as she crosses on light, bare feet to the door he entered by. A smooth click signifies the turning of a lock - privacy. Once accomplished, yoga pants and sports bra dissappear in turn to be replaced by the smooth comfort of skin and scales. She rolls her neck lightly and stretches her shoulders, as if breaking in the form.
"I've lost some weight," is positively tragic. Jason draws it out with almost an accent, his eyes half-lidding as he watches her.
Mystique tsks lightly, a touch of her tongue against the back of her teeth, and she shakes her head as she begins a slow circle. "Not what I asked," she points out.
"But what I answered," Jason counters, moving his feet as little as possible to keep her still in his peripheral vision.
Mystique's smile flashes momentarily broad, threatening toward a laugh. She stops and turns to face him fully. "Thank you for coming," she offers, very politely. "Are you ready? I /will/ try not to hurt you too badly."
"I'm ready. But /please/ get it over with. My legs are just /aching/ with anticipation." Jason bounces on his heels just a wee.
Mystique lifts a single hand for a beckon that is invitation and taunt and challenge, and rocks forward onto the balls of her feet.
Jason hops once, leans forward, and swings forward in a low step, jabbing a fist toward Mystique's gut.
Mystique's reaction is swift and somewhat delightedly - if perhaps overly - acrobatic. A twirl and then a flip carries her away from Jason's fist and to one side, just behind his left shoulder. A fast lean into a roundhouse kick aims at that shoulder.
Jason . . . ducks. It is a rapid sprawl of a duck that spreads his legs wide apart, but the kick flies over his head.
Mystique is grinning as she regains her balance and moves forward after him, stealing a blow that he has little time to escape before dancing backward to let him regain his footing.
Jason sprawls onto all fours, fingertips and knees, and then uses the momentum for a rough, if competent, somersault. It at least brings him onto his feet.
Mystique makes an approving noise deep in the back of her throat and circles around again before moving forward for another jab. It's low and easy, clearly broadcast in her movements.
Jason does not trust it. But he moves forward to meet it, a little rapid to her slow, high kneed.
It is what it seems - an easy open, offered to Jason as he warms to the fight. Her blow bounces of and she adds a second, just as clearly broadcast, if faster. Testing. Working toward his limits.
Jason inclines himself to the side, aiming for this blow to slide off as well (he hopes) as he makes a knuckle strike for her ... neck, really.
It connects, but as a glancing blow rather than a full-forward one, and Mystique allows the same for his before she spins back and out with a bit of a twitch in her step and a faint frown ghosting across her features.
"Step it up?" Jason asks, and if he is tired, he's concealing it (you know, probably). He persists, jabbing again. Grrg.
"Is there more?" Mystique wonders, brows lifting as she raises an arm to block the blow and slides into several herself.
"Mmm," Jason pushes between his lips-- and drops onto his rear end, hands braced back to hold him sitting. Kicks up from there.
Mystique's lips twitch slightly as she watches him and drops back into a wide, loose circle. Her steps are careful and balanced as she holds back and, for the moment, observes.
Jason has nothing to kick, so he rolls his knees in closer to his stomach and rolls back to his feet, just in time to lunge again. He is not very creative on his feet.
Mystique is both creative and quick, and the next several moments are a routine of blow-block-dodge, with a few moments of clear offering from Mystique and a few moments of decent scores by Jason. Although the blows are strong enough to sting, it's unlikely that they-- well. That /many/ of them, anyway, will bruise.
Jason is not doing quite so well. He does better than he really has much right to, but the exchange is a bit uneven. It is after those lot and lot of bruises that Jason's stance changes a bit and he gets definitely /faster/. Not quite Mystique speed, but only a hair under.
Mystique's smile spreads and spreads until she's flashing and shifting with a full-out grin in the wake of Jason's speed. After a few minutes of this she pulls back into a loose stance and raises her brows at Jason. "Improvement," she remarks through heavy breaths.
"I had to warm up," Jason says, pulling his stance low and resting for a second. He's just a bit smug.
"Warming up does wonders," Mystique responds, and she moves forward again for a series of blows, faster and harder and more precise this time.
Jason /dodges/ a fair few, although not every one. Not that fast. But he's still returning startlingly good blow for blow.
And again and again, level increased until Mystique is working for every blow she lands and every blow she dodges, and taking more than a few hits in the course of it. She is, from all appearances, working herself toward exhaustion - and entirely pleased.
Jason is wearing, entirely, a smirk on his face (if he has politely worked up a sweat in the meantime). He delivers a pair of too-rapid kicks and-- steps back. "I think my luck's about to run out."
"Wearing down?" Mystique wonders, rocking back for a few stolen breaths as she watches him.
"Yeah. I'm oh rather frail." Jason mock-fans himself with damp fingers.
"Need a break?" Mystique returns, jerking her head toward a bottle of water in the corner. "Little pause for a drink, Jason?"
"Appreciate that." Jason rather slumps off in that direction.
After a pause and a satisfied roll of her shoulders, Mystique follows. For the moment, she remains silent, and it's clear that despite her words, the latter half of the session has worn on her. It's a satisfied sort of exhaustion.
Jason drinks about half the bottle with a kind of hastiness which will make him pee in the very near future, we are sure. "Aaah."
Mystique leans against a mirrored wall to sink slowly to the floor, letting her legs stretch long before her. Her head slants back into the wall and she closes her eyes briefly before blinking her gaze over to Jason.
Jason sets the bottle down and leans against a not-quite-Mystique's wall. "So."
"Thank you," Mystique says quietly, gaze drifting away again. "I very much needed that."
"Good," is short. "I was hoping not to bore you."
"You could be that good on your own, you know," Mystique suggests quietly. "If you worked at it."
"A lot. Worked a whole lot," Jason corrects. "It'll take me some years."
"Only if you actually work," Mystique reminds. Her eyes close again, and her breath grows gradually quieter and steadier. "You should, you know. You may not always be able to do what you did today."
"I'm aware. Telepathic dampeners are rather popular in certain circles. But the best pah-pah," he hits the air, "in the world won't do anything against a gun. Or certain powers."
Mystique turns her head toward Jason and lifts her brows slightly. "Not in the least true."
"Well, you're a different matter than me."
"I have spent a great deal of time working to become so."
"You have a lot more time than I."
"Perhaps." Mystique pauses and watches Jason for a moment before she adds, "But we all start somewhere. I was young once, too."
"I have friends to be the brawn for me."
"That's riskier to assume that the availability of your mutation."
Jason shrugs. "Well, you know. I'm a bad lone agent."
"Mmm." The sound from Mystique is quiet and rather unreadable, and afterward she falls silent again, head turned forward.
"Again. Not like you."
Mystique remains silent. After a moment, she leans forward to claim a second water bottle.
Jason folds his arms and stretches his neck back. Mmph.
Mystique tips her head back to let cool water trickle down her throat and then lifts the bottle to send it splashing over her forehead. For the moment, she does not look at Jason.
Jason wipes one finger along his hairline. "So."
"Thank you." Mystique speaks the words again and pushes up to her feet, form rippling into something human once more. "If you ever have the desire to practice, you're welcome to give me a call. Arranging the space is not difficult."
Jason snorts, and admits, "You might be a /little/ safer to practice with than Toynbee or Sarah. Not sure about that. But thanks."
"I barely bruised you," Mystique objects with lifted brows and a glance over her shoulder. "Not until you were fast illusion, at any rate."
"I mean, if I managed to piss you off. You weren't pissed. You were playing. They piss easier."
"Do you intend to piss me off?"
"No."
"Then I expect we will be safe."
Jason gives Mystique a thumb's up.
If Mystique sees it, she does not acknowledge it. Instead, she crosses to the door and flips the lock over without comment.
"Good night!" Jason calls back.
"Good night, Jason," Mystique answers evenly.
"If you ever need a bed-warmer," is just to be obnoxious.
Mystique's brows arch neatly upward. "You know someone appropriate?" she wonders. Obnoxious.
"You can be anyone I want, I can be anyone you want," Jason spreads his arms, world-embracing. "It's perfect."
"You can look like anyone I want," Mystique replies with a faint smile. "Don't ever fool yourself, Jason. It's not the same thing."
"It's close enough," Jason dismisses.
"Is it?" Mystique turns to study Jason, expression distant. "Would it be enough for me to look like your betraying whore? What did she look like, Jason?" She shifts, then, into something young and pretty with dark hair and big, brown doe-eyes. "Was she dark?" Another shift into blonde and sweet, a pretty blush upon her cheeks. "Fair?"
"Dark," Jason identifies, his eyes again half-lidding and his expression blank. "I don't want her any more."
Blue again in an instant, despite the unlocked door. Mystique's eyes glow golden on Jason as she watches him. "What do you want?"
"I honestly couldn't tell you."
"Then whatever would I be?" Mystique wonders with a wry twist of her lips.
"Could be you!"
Mystique's expression flattens and she turns away, pacing again for that water bottle. "Now I'm certain /that's/ not what you want."
"While I'm indecisive, it may as well be."
"Are you that lonely, Jason?"
"Are you?"
"I'm not the one who suggested it."
"I always suggest it." Jason thumps his chest. "I'm just that virile."
"Yes, of course." Mystique glances at him over her shoulder, bottle held before her. "When did you stop wanting her?"
"After I stopped caring enough to be angry."
Mystique turns back to the wall, but her expression is clearly visible in the mirror. Her lips twist unhappily. "And when was that?"
"Months ago. Hellfire Club and its pawns-- none of that matters any more."
"Why not?"
Jason shrugs. "Can't beat them. They're not even the same organization any more."
"And so she doesn't matter anymore? "
"She was a pawn. Wasn't even her choice, what she did. What she was. Any of it."
"She doesn't matter to you because she never loved you," Mystique clarifies.
"Yes. Sure."
"You'll have to forgive me if I am less than convinced by your convictions."
"You know what?" Jason tucks his hands behind himself, "I've never been very good at sex. Even terribly interested. It's a control thing, that's all."
"So hire a hooker," Mystique bites off, gaze suddenly sharp in the mirror's reflexion. "I am hardly a geisha, Jason Wyngarde."
"It's /also/ a company thing," he adds. Light to the sharp. "I couldn't control you. The other way around, maybe."
That startles Mystique into silence for a moment, and she turns to study Jason, eyes narrowed. After a moment she wonders, "You find your other companions easily manipulated?"
"I tend to be attracted to vulnerable people."
"Not what I asked."
"No."
"Are you feeling a little bored, Jason?" Mystique wonders, turned to pace toward him once more. There's a predatory gleam to her eye as she prowls with feline grace. "Not finding a challenge up to your standards?"
Jason sloe-eyes a glance between those half-lids. "Oh, I'm challenged."
"Are you?" Mystique wonders, hollow tones dipped low and a touch dangerous. "By what?"
"Expanding my boundaries." Jason tips a knuckle under his chin.
"To?"
Jason hitches up a shoulder.
Mystique hitches up a brow.
"New frontiers."
"Vague," Mystique spits in derision. "Words. Illusions. Be /tangible/, Jason. Be daring."
"Tangible." Jason pulls out a snicker. "I'm attracted to more than women. There you are."
The roll of Mystique's eyes is deeply heartfelt, and the irritation in her voice is clear. "So if you sleep with me, I can be a man for you without you /really/ having to sleep with a man. Honestly, Jason. It hardly works like that."
"I would have /never/ asked you to shift male. That would be /bizarre!/" Jason unfolds his arms to flick his fingers.
"What /would/ you have asked me to shift to?"
"I don't know."
"I'm sure." Scaled arms rise to cross neatly beneath her breasts and Mystique stares at Jason across the space of several feet.
"I'm terminally indecisive /and/ a coward. What would you ask me to shift to?" Jason is so agile.
"I have no desire to sleep with you," Mystique points out practically.
Jason sighs /tragically/. "I know. No one does."
"I'm certain you can find someone willing. After all." Her lips twist distastefully. "You can be their fantasy."
"Wouldn't that be unselfish of me."
"So instead you ask me. Why is that?"
"Because I always do."
"Because you're certain I'll say no."
"Yep."
"And if I don't, you don't have to particularly worry that you'd have to deal with /me/."
"Uh." Jason stops half-lidding his eyes. "I'm not sure what you mean."
"I can be anyone you want," Mystique reminds on a low purr, and her skin shades into dusky tones, dark-haired again, although this time the jawline and figure are distinctly male.
Jason puts his hand over his eyes. "I don't want anything. I don't know /what/ I want, I don't know /who/ I want."
"Go away, Jason," Mystique instructs wearily. "You exhaust me."
"You're closer to the door."
"I paid for the room," she snaps.
"Fine." Jason drops his hand and starts doorward. Quickly.
Mystique remains where she is, arms folded tight across her chest.
Mystique wants some stress relief. She calls Jason.
Oops?