(no subject)
Ellen has an academic biochemistry magazine and a melon assortment. She makes use of both, sitting in the corner of the living room couch with one leg curled beneath her. Dark grey slacks, pale blue blouse, thin grey socks: she could have recently returned home from work, if she had a job. There isn't even any blood on her anywhere.
Nor is there blood on Yuriko. On the other hand, she is wearing a girl.
One cannot have everything.
The scrape of footsteps sounds outside, heavier than Yuriko's usual cat-like tread. It opens roughly, with a bump: also uncharacteristic. In height, Deathstrike's burden is not so different from hers; it is a matter of leverage, and sheer weight that causes the difficulty. Lips pursed, the barest glimmer of perspiration on her wrinkled brow, Erik's resident madwoman -- the /other/ one -- paces heavily into the apartment dragging a girl behind her.
A /woman/, Rogue would be quick to remind. And despite a personality that usually demands dignity, the way the limp little Rogue is being heaved about is anything but. She flops with each movement, having been blissfully unaware at her little journey. Now, however, is a different story as eyes lashes flutter from behind a thick and thunderous headache. She makes a small noise of protest deep in her throat but does not move on her own accord just yet.
Footsteps and door do not draw Ellen's eye, only the sharpening of her aural attention. Vocalized sound draws her eye. Both of them lift, the pale gaze skipping from the pages cradled in her hands to fasten on Yuriko, and then upon Yuriko's stirring burden.
Ellen goes immediately quite still and stares.
Yuriko drag-drag-drags a little further (industrious little ant that she is!) and then carefully lays Rogue on the floor in order to close the door. It thumps shut. Then she seats herself on the same floor and begins to remove Rogue's shoes. Explanations are perhaps in order. "Good afternoon," she tells Ellen over her shoulder, busily working on her victim's left shoe. "I have brought home a partner for Dr. Lensherr's sexual intercourse needs. She has dark hair. Dr. Lensherr wanted a dark-haired woman the other night."
Carefully and not so quietly Rogue opens her eyes. Her voice rumbles awake through the sticky fog her consciousness is attempting to fight past. "Whuz?" she manages weakly. Gloved fingers twitch with sluggish annoyance.
Ellen stares at Rogue. Then she stares at Yuriko. "Why is she /unconscious/?" she asks, dropping her magazine to the couch and rising to her feet.
Strictly speaking, she is not. Yuriko frowns up the length of Rogue's leg at her. "It was too difficult to explain to them," she tells Ellen, sounding a bit injured. "I attempted to speak to others, but they were not reasonable. They are all very silly, I think." Left shoe done. Right shoe!
Rogue's left foot waves in the midst of freedom, air striking it differently. She registers this fairly quickly and starts to attempt to sit up. "Stoppit," Rogue murmurs in a slurred voice.
"Yuriko." Ellen blinks once at her and then looks down at Rogue, finding familiarity an extremely vague thing that does not spark any immediate mental connections out of the general baffled fog. "You cannot simply knock the woman on the head--" She breaks off and stares at the young woman with a kind of horror. Oh no. Waking up. How can this be dealt with!
No worries! Yuriko has it well in hand! She drops Rogue's foot, painstakingly fishes in her overcoat pockets for the convenient bottle of chloroform (never leave home without it!) and a folded handkerchief that already shows some small stains of earlier application. Bottle cap, liquid, and then -- "I did not knock her on the head," she says with some reproach. "That is not ... /subtle/. Also, it is dangerous if people know how to come here. I know. Dr. Lensherr said. I listened. I," she finishes sternly, reaching with her handkerchief to smother Rogue again, "am not /stupid/."
Rogue's hand slides across the floor, fingers tensed as she teeters her weight upwards... only to come into contact with the friendly little handkerchief. "Frrg." Once again Rogue's pupils shrink to dots as they roll up and away. She slumps back and loses her claimed inches of elevation, head slapping hard with the floor.
"Oh," says Yuriko, and frowns a little. "Dr. Lensherr does not require her head for sexual intercourse, does he?" Ellen will know. She regards the other woman hopefully.
"Er," says Ellen. And then, "Women's mouths, anyway, are generally involved -- but he will not want to have sex with an /unwilling/ woman," she points out reasonably, clasping her hands neatly behind her back and drawing her heels close together. "Or if he did he would probably want to select her himself."
"She is not unwilling," Yuriko says with uncharacteristic precision for detail. She tucks her bottle and kerchief away and returns to fussing with Rogue's feet. Right shoe, off! Yatta! "She is only unconscious. It is the same. I do not think that is relevant, for sexual intercourse. Also, he /wanted/ a woman with dark hair. I have brought her. I have offered to have sexual intercourse with him," she says, rising to take Rogue's arms and begin towing her towards Erik's bedroom. "However, he does not want me. It would have been more convenient, but I do not mind." She is such a warm-hearted, generous woman.
Rogue makes no protest. In fact, she is so compliant that she doesn't even clear the drool pooling on her lip. How considerate.
How hot.
Faced with this logic, Ellen does not seem to know what to do. She looks down at the unconscious woman, and then looks around the living room as though seeking aid from an unidentified source. None comes. "Er," she says again. "Unconscious and willing--" She breaks off. "It is true that this is not my area of particular expertise," she says. "Are you sure that he required a dark-haired woman?"
"She was dark-haired," Yuriko says simply, and knits her brow at Ellen on her way through the bedroom door. Valkyrie is complicating matters! "I will tie her to the bed, in case there is difficulty, and then I will make dinner. Is penne puttanesca acceptable? I have bought mushrooms--" The bedroom engulfs her. A few seconds later, it swallows Rogue, too.
Ellen stands irresolutely in the living room for a long moment, and then, eventually, decides to hide in her room.
Roommates. WTF?