Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough
Roleplaying Log: Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough
IC Details

Rogue brings Meggan chocolate chip cookies to thank her for the warm welcome. They find out they have a thing or two in common.

Other Characters Referenced: Piotr, Jean Grey
IC Date: January 07, 2019
IC Location: The X-Mansion
OOC Notes & Details
Posted On: 10 Jan 2019 05:43
Rating & Warnings: G
NPC & GM Credits:
Associated Plots

3:10 PM

There's a lot of space that isn't heavily used now with the student body gone. The big TV is nice, but Meggan isn't sitting on one of the couches. She has chosen to coccoon herself cross-legged on one of the big Doop-branded beanbags that had been left behind, sitting near enough to the screen that it fills her entire field of vision.

The program is a food travelogue; they seem to be going through rural Japan. However, the presenter is American. A documentary? A live show? Well, probably not live, but there are many shows like this.

Meggan, comfortable now, is staying comfortable. The world is chaotic enough, and it takes time to pull yourself together.

Also, she lacks trade skills. Whoopsie!

"hah!" Meggan says abruptly. "I wish every train station had a dog to take your ticket."

* * *

The smell of food that comes from the entry into this nook is most definitely not from Japan. It's all-American. The traditional Nestle Tollhouse Morsel chocolate chip cookie printed on the back of every bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips now sold in every grocery store, to be exact. The feelings emitting from the young woman who brings them in are a strange mix of warmth and shyness, though there's no outward hint of shyness at all as she heads into the room.

Rogue settles down next to Meggan and asks, "A dog?"

Sure, that's not how she meant to start this conversation, but it slips right out in her confusion. She checks the television screen, to see if there is any correlation between this dog comment and the actual action on the screen.

As at the meeting, she wears a band t-shirt over jeans; as at the meeting she's wearing a long-sleeved shirt beneath that which disappears into gloves; every inch of her body covered unless that inch is neck or face. And she gives Meggan plenty of distance from the end of the couch she claims, though pushes the cookies over in a way that indicates they are definitely being offered to the other woman.

* * *

On screen, a shiba inu dog is indeed taking the train ticket of a New York City chef, who seems bemused at this turn of events.

"Oh hello! D'you want to watch too? We can change it if you like," Meggan says, turning to look towards Rogue. She smiles as she does, emanating welcome without really thinking about it.

She then s t r e t c h e s over to collect a cookie between finger and thumb, drawing them closer. "I thought you were thinking well during that whole meeting," Meggan says. "If you don't mind me saying."

* * *

"No, what you've got on is fine!"

But admittedly, Rogue is startled by Meggan's phrasing. "Er, well, I didn't hardly say nothin'. I was getting a little lost here and there to be honest. Too many people going back and forth about every thing under the dadgum sun. But…I appreciated…I mean those are yours. All of them."

Her gloved hand indicates the cookie basket by way of explanation, and her smile ticks up a notch. "Not everyone has exactly been happy to see me up in these parts. You welcomed me right away. It was right decent of you. And real nice, too. So…thank you cookies seemed like the least I can do. Got a batch to deliver to Piotr later on too."

* * *

"Oh, well then," Meggan says - before she pauses.

"What - all of them?" Her eyes widen, looking at Rogue with renewed appreciation. She bites into that one that she had, chewing it as she contemplates what Rogue has to say. She continues on - Meggan having her mouth full, there is a fine excuse to not feel awkward.

After swallowing, she says, "Well thank you! I'd thought you must have been supposed to be there, if you're worried about that. I'm sure Jean and Logan and everyone would have spoke up. But I bet it was like you'd been invited to tea with the Queen, isn't it! Even if she *invited* you it is still like, why am I *here*, is that not right?"

She then beams. "So help yourself! Have a cookie or three." As she turns round the remains of the one she bit into, Meggan half-turns away from the screen, not least because she has already seen enough Japanese trains for the day. "They're all terribly clever, aren't they? And I'm not, really. I know you couldn't tell from the outside, but I was having a mental connection to Rachel, right? So it was like I was sending her texts, but with my mind."

In this, Meggan perhaps understands telepathy better than most.

"I was asking her, are they talking about a business or more like a charity? Even she wasn't sure."

* * *

Rogue considers that, then plucks up a cookie. They're hard to resist, after all, smelling, as they do, like cookies. The tea-with-the-Queen bit might confuse her a little, by her furrowed brow, but she lets it pass, saying,only: "I was supposed to be there, for whatever that was worth. Jean asked me to go."

But she tilts her head on the matter of Rachel, adding: "I couldn't tell at all! That's handy, sounds like. And it's good to know I wasn't the only one plum confused. I guess it don't much matter. Those of us who gotta ask if it's business or charity or whatever probably shouldn't be on that part of stuff. Plenty of stuff those of us who don't know what a dang LLC even is to do, right? But I reckon it takes all kinds, so it's just as well. Who was that girl who was talking like a robot? The one who was talking about operational security and what-all?"

* * *

"Oh did she! I keep wanting to call her Ms. Grey," Meggan says.

She kills that remaining cookie.

"Did you - I don't know how to put this."

Meggan considers. Then she puts a hand to her chest. "I didn't go to school at all," she says. "When I was small I was a freak so I stayed in my father's caravan." So matter of fact. She lets that sit, as if in invitation, before her brow knits. "Yes, I know, she seemed so much like some kind of… Do you think she was the product of a government assassin program?"

"Like on the Lone Gunmen!"

* * *

"I didn't finish. High school, I mean," Rogue admits, tugging at a lock of her hair and letting it spring back into place. "I just never saw the point, I guess, when I was…doing the things I was doing after I dropped out. But…I guess she could have been! I never did see Lone Gunman but it ain't like you don't see the same sort of thing on a bunch of other bingeables. Also, you ain't no freak. You're kind, so don't go talkin' about yourself like that."

That mild admonishment is given with a smile, and the shrug that follows perhaps says 'well, at least no freakish than the rest of us.'

Then she asks: "What was your Daddy's caravan like? Was it like…I dunno, the Airstreamer people? Where you from, anyway, sugar?"

* * *

"Oh, I don't mean like, I was a horrible person, I mean I didn't…" Meggan trails off. "I can change my shape," she explains then.

She smiles. The Power Conversation is not exactly novel ground. "Oh, it wasn't too bad. Ummmh I don't know an airstreamer, but it was like a, a what do you call them. A trailer, I guess. I'm from England, just not the posh parts. And you're from the South, aren't you!"

As she says this Meggan reaches for another cookie. "I caught up tremendously with my studying and everything, but it's always like you're running behind, isn't it? I try not to worry about it too much."

* * *

"They're just a kind of trailers. Old Southern people like 'em if they got money. They're like…trailers on steroids. And they roll all over the country meetin' other old folks with Airstreamers, and they form these weird Airstreamer clubs," Rogue says solemnly. "Not weird because people are traveling, just weird because they don't, say, bond with Winnegabo people, or people throwin' mattresses down into the backs of their van, or tent campers, or other kinds of travelers. It is only Airstreamers, and they play bridge and wear themselves a particular kind of outfit, and yet if you suggest they're at all elitist they'll grow very 'oh I never!' about it all."

That last bit prompts a hand to her chest and widened eyes as she plays up their 'oh I never.'

But of course, she only really saw them from afar, the Airstreamers, because: "The South. And definitely not the posh parts." They do exist, as evinced by the Airstreamers, whatever stereotypes about it suggest otherwise. But she nods to the last bit, thoughtfully.

"I guess I ain't never done gave it much thought before. I learned to fix cars, and that strikes me as a mite more useful than most book learning. But here I am, all up in a school, so I'm wondering if maybe I shouldn't oughta take advantage of that and at least try to get my GED."

But then, how would registration impact that? The thought comes hard on its heels, but rather than chase that rabbit she gives another bright grin and notes, "But it's just a piece of paper, I reckon. Learnin's free, and I don't reckon it's ever too late to do it, and the thing is, you can't much stop it. So while you might be behind in one way, there's all sorts of stuff you know that there's no other kind of a way to know, and all the rest of us would be behind trying to know it, or learn it, and it will be real apparent on the day when that comes when that sort of learning is the one thing we all gonna need."

* * *

Meggan listens with every sign of authentic interest - genuine, heartfelt interest - as Rogue speaks about the culture of different RVs. She smiles a little as Rogue admits she too did not come from Posh, and she shifts then.

"I don't have one either. That's like a diploma, isn't it? It's different here but I know it's in all thefilms…" Her lips purse. Learning is free. You can't stop it.

The day when it comes and that kind of learning is the one they all need.

"I feel like I ought to say something meaningful here… but the truth is that I think I get you, but I don't know if there's more to say," Meggan says, looking up. The additional cookie she snagged is tapped onto her lower lip. "But you do sound like you know an awful lot. If you could, would you get an Airstreamer for yourself? I used to live with - Brian; Betsy's brother; he's got a hell of a house, I'll tell you. And then after THAT, if you can believe it, we were in this old lighthouse— it turned out to not be ACTUALLY a light house, but it was LIKE one."

"Could you teach me how to make these? You said you were going to make another batch for Piotr, right?"

* * *

"Naw," Rogue says with a twitch of her lips. "If I was gonna travel hither, thither, and yon? Mattress in the van. Stealth, it's easy to get into the gas stations, you can park 'em up at the Walmart n' sleep for free, head down to the truck stop and get yourself a shower for two bucks and buy breakfast for four. You're on the road again in no time and the world's your oyster, and the people who you meet like that are the folks that are gonna get you. I don't know how to play no dadgum bridge, for example."

Emerald eyes sparkle, though, as she listens to the story of Brian's hell-of-a-house, and a lighthouse that wasn't a lighthouse, only to watch it pivot all to…can they make more cookies?

"Hell yeah," Rogue says, bounding up. "C'mon. Kitchen's still free, I'm sure of it. Won't get busy for another hour and a half." She has memorized the patterns of the mansion as best she can, the better to avoid unnecessary confrontations. "Cookies are done in thirty minutes! And we can totally get into the dough too."

Because the dough, after all, is just as good as the cookie.

Meggan thinks she gets Rogue…and Rogue thinks they get each other. That means it's a great day for cookies, in her books.

* * *

"I only have one question," Meggan says as she gets up and pauses the television - a miracle, but one she's welcomed.

"I'm not sure exactly what a truck stop is… Could we visit one sometime??"

Just keep her out of the cab accessories section.

(or don't)

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