Summary:Dax and Rogue eat breakfast, and then go on an errand and resolve some domestic violence. Log Info:Storyteller: {$storyteller} |
Related LogsTheme SongThis should be obvious. |
  |
Dax and Rogue had been hanging out pretty regularly since he’d come back to town. Nothing too crazy, just dinners, beers, maybe the occasional club. Believe it not, Dax is a decent dancer, though it takes a few drinks to get there. He hasn’t been back to the mansion yet, and doesn’t seem in a rush to get there. It’s on the list, though, he swears. Today, though, it’s still early in the day, and breakfast is on the agenda. A diner not far from Dax’s apartment does a decent omelet, which is where the pair find themselves, seated opposite one another in a booth by the window. “So the casting director basically pulled me aside and said he called me because I looked the part, but I had absolutely zero talent. Phrased it a little less politely. That’s how I ended up on an episode of CSI. Dead Drug User #3.”
*
There’s a snort. “But you don’t look at all like a junkie. Director is a moron. I’m sure you have tons of talent, Dax.” There’s a large bite of her omelet, before she’s pouring syrup on the blueberry pancakes she got besides. Rogue is not what one would call a ‘light’ eater. “Maybe you should try some like..local theatre groups, or something? This is new york,. They’re everywhere.”
*
Dax laughs a bit at that. “Nah, he wasn’t wrong. I’d gotten caught up in the whole “struggling actor” thing. You know, like how everyone in LA is an actor just waiting for their big break?” He smirks, and shovels some more food into his mouth. “Probably could have landed a part in some POS pilot if I’d been willing to go a bit further,” he says after a moment, making a face at that. “But it wouldn’t have changed anything in the end. I wasn’t going ever gonna be a star, and that’s okay. I’m pretty happy ending up where I have.” He shrugs, happily munching on a sausage link in a moment of unintended irony. “Besides, probably would have turned out real bad if the fact that I’m a mutant had come out, right?”
*
Rogue will give him a withering look. “Some of those shows, you just need to be pretty. Some of them can’t act at all.” She jokes, cutting into her pancakes. “But yeah, I mean, who would want to give up all this, to be rich and famous?” There’s that Southern sarcasm. “I don’t know. I mean, show off your coin trick, and people probably would have decided you weren’t that dangerous.” She shrugs.
*
“Eh, doesn’t seem to matter how dangerous you can be to some people,” Dax says, turning serious for a moment. “Haters gonna hate.” He shovels some more eggs, and a piece of bacon right into the old maw. “Besides,” he says, “How pissed would have been if I’d disappeared for three years, and then suddenly you saw me on E News with a supermodel without sending you so much as a letter?” He grins, and braces himself for getting punched in the arm.
*
Green eyes will look up at him from under lashes. “I would have shown up at some awards thing, and screamed at you, about how could you abandon me and our babies, and you hadn’t been back to the trailer or sent child support in months.. All in front of the press. Woulda served you right.”
*
Dax snap-points at Rogue, grinning. “That is exactly how I imagine it, yes. Bonus points if you show up with an actual baby and a paternity test. We’d do the talk-show circuit, bring Jerry and Maury out of retirement…” he trails off, mock-wistfully. “Sure, my imaginary career would be over, but who hasn’t secretly wanted to be on Springer?” He finishes off his eggs, leaving a piece of bacon on the plate, which he nudges toward Rogue. “You got plans today, or do you want to come deliver the bad news to some poor shmuck with me?"
*
“Hell, honey, I would have had a baby, given myself blonde highlights, worn sticky red lip gloss and trashy sandals, just for you.” She will wink at him, before she will trade him the bacon for a slab of blueberry pancake she will slap on his plate. “I don’t have interviews or anything, so there wasn’t like.. A set schedule. It’s supposed to be vacation. So sure, I’ll go with you. Just in case they get fresh.”
*
Dax happily digs into the pancake, devouring it bite by bite. “I smell this year’s Halloween costumes,” he says, still grinning. “I’m sure it’ll go just fine,” he says after he finishes the pancake. Which, of course, means it won’t, because of Murphy and his stupid law. Once they’ve both finished, and the bill has been left for them, Dax will leave a small pile of bills to cover the meal, and a little for the waitress (who may have been flirting for extra tips). “Ready to head out?"
*
Rogue, on the other hand, leaves still more for the waitress. Flirty or not, Rogue knows how hard a day’s work can be, let alone dealing with the crap a waitress does. A hand pushes her hair back from her face, and she’ll start to scoot out of the booth. “Sure thing. You got a call already you have something to deliver, or how’s that work?”
*
“I get a list of jobs in the morning. Long as they’re delivered by the deadline, we’re golden. Usually end of day, but sometimes later on in the week, depending on what the papers are.” Dax shuffles on out of the booth as well, eyeing the additional money for a quick second. Funny, he didn’t notice the girl flirting with her too, but it’s entirely possible he’s oblivious, because let’s be honest. He walks out of the diner with Rogue, to the car. It’s a Prius, because of course it is. A bit beat-up from a few years worth of driving, and at least one cross-country trip that still hasn’t been washed off. And it’s blue, because I’ve never seen a Prius that wasn’t. Dax taps the fob on his keychain, and climbs in the driver’s side. A moment later, he’s got his phone out (still working, thank the gods), and mapping out the route to the office, and then the first job. Technology takes all the thinking out of it. “Let’s go ruin some marriages."
She hadn’t been flirting with Rogue, but Rogue couldn’t begrudge her flirting with Dax, after all. She was more just making sure a working woman got a little something extra than maybe she was expecting. She manages to not make a face at the Prius, given her own classic lil’ red pickup. “Honey, if you’re serving papers, they’re already ruined.”
*
“Hey, don’t take this away from me,” Dax jokes. Because if he can’t joke about it, it becomes all too serious. Once they’re all buckled into Dax’s shameful little hybrid, he starts the engine, and away they go. The first few jobs are pretty boring. Ring a doorbell, make sure they’re getting to the right person, hand ‘em over, give a little condolence if necessary. Most people are pretty understanding, and expecting it. One of them isn’t divorce papers at all, just a plain old subpoena. The last one though, takes the pair all the way out to Queens. And when they get up to the door, there’s a whole ton of yelling going on inside. A man and a woman absolutely screaming at each other, to the point that it’s hard to make out exactly what they’re fighting about. It becomes pretty clear though when the words “that fucking whore” are shouted plain as day. Because what else do people fight about if it’s not money? Nonetheless, Dax rings the bell, and waits. The shouting continues, despite the bell having been loud enough to be heard. Another ring, and more waiting, and then Dax turns to Rogue and lets out a little sigh. “Off in their own loud little world,” he muses aloud.
*
Rogue will bypass the bell, and use the toe of her boot to ‘knock’ on the door. “We could always see if there’s another door, maybe?” She’ll ask as she kicking/knocking on the door. She doesn’t like the sounds of screaming, she’s half expecting the screaming to stop, and other sounds she knows too well from some of her foster homes to start.
*
The continual banging and bell-ringing does eventually achieve the desired reaction. Sure, there’s still screaming, but the door opens, and standing in it is a young boy, probably about eight years old. “H-Hello?” He’s crying, quietly, and obviously has been for a while. “Aw fuck,” Dax says with a sigh as he kneels down to the kid.
“That your mom and Dad shouting in there?”
“Yeah.”
“They do that a lot?”
“Yeah.”
“They ever hit you?”
“Sometimes."
Dax mutters something inaudible, and then looks up at Rogue. “Not supposed to go inside the residence, but.. want to break some laws in the name of preventing domestic abuse?” There’s no smile this time. The kid just stands there, looking nervous and a bit confused.
*
Rogue looks at the little kid, then green eyes flick up to Dax’s face. “You stay here. I’ll take care of it. I don’t work for the company, I can’t get in trouble. Just a concerned citizen.”
Before Dax can stop her, she will slide past the kid and inside, following the noise. She can hear the screaming hitting a certain pitch that makes her stomach ache, like she’s a little kid again. She’ll pull up short just outside the kitchen, before letting out an ear splitting whistle. “Hey!”
*
The inside of the house is a mess. They’ve obviously been fighting at least off-and-on for a while now. Dishes piled up, broken glass on the floor from someone throwing something at the other. Rogue will pass a fist-sized hole in the wall on her way toward the source of the yelling, which is coming from the kitchen. A man and a woman, both with pretty sizeable bruises visible. They both stop screaming at each other when Rogue throws out that whistle, but it only lasts a second as the man starts shouting again, but not directed at the woman now. “Who the fuck are you? Get the fuck out of my house, bitch!” He grabs a knife from the kitchen counter; not in a knife block or anything, so probably one that’s been brandished menacingly before. “Earl, no!” The woman starts yelling again. He looks like an Earl, complete with the dumb moustache. “Sit the fuck down, Stacy,” he says with a turn of his head to the woman, potentially giving Rogue an opening while he’s not looking.
Meanwhile outside, Dax tries to talk to the kid. “My friend is gonna go try to get your parents calmed down. I’ll bet any minute now they’ll be nice and relaxed,” he says, trying to sound calm. In reality, Dax is more nervous about dealing with the kid than he would be dealing with the angry, potentially violent adults.
“Okay,” says the boy, tugging on his shirt a bit out of nervousness himself. He steps outside, and turns to look back through the door. “They don’t usually throw things,” he says quietly. “She’s not gonna hurt them, is she?”
“Let’s hope not, kid."
*
“Who the fuck am I? I’m the one hearing you from the street,…Earl.” She’ll add in that extra syrupy drawl to make his name sound as dumb as he looks. “Breaking glass and shit, that’s not what they call kosher up here in the city. That’s either I come in and see if you two can act like parents, or if the cops need to be called. No skin off my nose either way.”
When that head turns, so does Rogue. At least enough to lift her foot in that boot to kick that knife out of his hand with a speed and strength not usually suspected out of her. “Now listen here, Earl. We can do this nice and easy… or I can get rough with you. And trust me, you wouldn’t much like the latter.” Then, because she just can’t help herself, those bruises on that woman setting her temper on high flame “Latter means the one mentioned second, by the way. I’m not so sure you’re a big reader.”
*
Earl is a bit taken aback when the knife is kicked from his hand, because who wouldn’t be? It clatters to the ground, and the little speech Rogue gives him doesn’t seem to convince him of the error of his ways. “You fucking whores are all the same,” he growls, and lunges at Rogue. Not a graceful fighter, but he’s got size on his side, if not much else. Stacy takes a few steps back, putting a bit more distance between herself and the altercation.
Meanwhile, outside…
“What’s your name, kid?” Dax asks, trying to distract the boy from the noise inside.
“Charlie,” says the boy, looking back toward the door again.
“I knew a Charlie once. Nice guy. Helped me out a lot. How old are you, Charlie?”
“Eight,” Charlie replies. He’s a boy of few words.
“I’m gonna call the police now, let them know what’s been going on, and get someone to come who can look after you, okay?”
“Okay.”
*
Rogue is used to bigger guys, and all sorts of fighting styles. There’s something like a smile when he comes for her, a pale hand waving Stacy towards the front door. She has a kid, after all.
“And you big dumb fucks are all the same. What, you’re not feeling manly enough, so you have to pick on the mother of your kid, a woman half your size? Slow, big, dumb and probably lousy in bed. You should consider yourself lucky to have her.” Rogue will back up enough to have room. She can already pick out some of his likely go-to strikes just from how he moves.
“How your buddies at work going to respond to hearing you got your ass kicked by some little woman, huh? I bet they’ll laugh, and laugh.” She’s baiting the bull, on purpose. She wants him mad. Mad men make more mistakes.
She will let him get in close, those green eyes on his face the entire time, before her foot strikes out quick and hard for the side of his knee. She won’t lose, but she prefers to fight fair when she can.
*
Stacy doesn’t move, instead keeping to the back wall of the kitchen. She doesn’t say anything, but she shakes her head at Rogue rather emphatically, like she’s too afraid to do anything.
Rogue’s goading of Earl is getting exactly the reaction she was looking for. Fuming so much you can practically see the smoke coming out his ears. “You dumb slut,” he growls, slamming his hand on the wall hard enough to put another dent in the drywall. His movements are telegraphed pretty easily, and his first move is your standard lunge and grab, trying to get a hold of Rogue to push her against the wall. That’s when she hits him in the side of the knee, and there’s an audible snap as the joint breaks. Down he goes, wailing in agony. “YOU FUCKING BITCH!” He shouts through pained groans. There’s even tears. What a guy.
Stacy meanwhile, has moved to pick up the knife, and approach Earl’s fallen form. “See how you like it, someone pointing it at you,” she murmurs, doing just that. She might even get far enough to press the tip against his throat. “I oughta gut you for what you did to me,” she hisses.
Outside, Dax has gotten on the phone, while Charlie sits down on the steps, legs pulled up against his chest. Dax gives the address, names, an explanation of the situation as best he can, and his own information. It’s his phone, so there’s no sense in lying about that stuff. “Sorry about this, kid,” he says with resignation. Charlie just shrugs. Almost like it’s not the first time.
*
Rogue will snort at the raging bull - more like weak ass bully of a man. Once that blow to the knee strikes true, she will give another good kick to his midsection. No sense in letting him have enough breath to keep yelling. “See what calling those names does? Now you done gone and made me hurt you.” She knows, just knows, that he’s said those things to his wife before.
She will stop Stacy a few inches short of his throat. “Now now, momma, you need to give me the knife. Your little boy is outside and could use some soothin’, I’m sure. I’ll stay here and make sure he doesn’t get up.” She will move to pull the woman back, and reach for the knife. “Then the best thing you can do is get a restrainin’ order, and kick his ass out of your life. You got a little boy who loves you. “
*
There’s tears streaming down her cheeks, but Stacy’s face is anything but sad. Angry and desperate, perhaps, but not sad. She may well have been about to put that knife to use, but Rogue’s words bring her back. “Would be more’n he deserves,” she mutters, and relinquishes the knife. “Thanks,” she says after a moment, standing up. “What do I tell the police?” She looks down at Earl, who is still conscious, but struggling to regain his breath and wisely not contributing to the discussion.
Outside, Dax gets off the phone and sits next to Charlie. Neither say anything to one another, but Dax pulls out a couple coins, and hands one to the kid. He holds out the other, and magnetizes it with enough strength to pull it right out of the kid’s hand. This makes Charlie smile a little, which in turn makes Dax smile.
*
Rogue will look Stacy in the eye. “He’s hit the kid. He deserves a whole lot worse. But that lil’ boy needs someone. My friend is out there, looking after him. He probably could use his mom.” She will move to put the knife out of the way somewhere, so she’s not holding it when the cops show up.
“I assume you tell them the truth. Talk to my friend out there, he’s a good thinker.” There’s even a smile on the belle’s face. “Get yourself some deep breaths. Earl ain’t gettin’ up any time soon.”
*
Stacy gives Rogue a nod, and wipes her eyes. She doesn’t say anything else, and resists the urge to kick Earl on her way by as she moves through the kitchen and out toward the door. Earl gives a pained groan, and manages to turn a bit, looking up at Rogue once his wife has left. “You’re gonna regret that, bitch,” he mutters, but is still in too much pain to get up just yet. Another empty threat.
Outside, Charlie’s mom comes out the door, and Charlie gets up to give her a hug. They embrace for several seconds, while Dax gets to his feet, and awkwardly waits for the two to disengage. “Thanks for keeping him out of there,” she says to Dax.
“You got somewhere to go?”
Stacy nods, “We’ll head upstate to stay with my sister. She’s expecting us already.”
*
Green eyes will watch Stacy go, and there’s a quick crossing of her fingers as the belle wishes her the best, hopes that she will go and get gone, keep this man out of her life. Rogue knows the statistics of so many who don’t.
Her head tilts as her gaze shifts to Earl. “Oh I am, am I? Tell me how, Earl? Tell me how you think you’re going to get up off that floor and kick my ass now, when you couldn’t before I took out your knee. The sad part, Earrrrrrrl, is that I didn’t even come close to doing my worst. You wouldn’t stand a chance against me, you pathetic, misogynistic excuse for a man. You don’t deserve that little boy out there.”
*
That just makes Earl even more impotently angry. He tries to yell something, but it’s hard to yell when you’re still struggling to breath from a foot to the chest. “… bitch,” is all he manages after trying for a moment. It might almost be comical. “Get the fuck out,” he wheezes.
By now the sirens are audible in the distance, as the police are en route finally.. Dax pokes his head in the door, and says loudly enough to be heard, “Cops are coming. You wanna stick around for ‘em, or..?” He’s not sure Rogue really wants to deal with the police. He can handle the details they’ll want, no doubt, and he can sort out a story with Stacy that keeps Rogue out of it if necessary.
*
“What was that, Earl? I couldn’t hear you over your wheezing.” Rogue is losing that battle with her temper. “Better a bitch than a ball-less bastard like you.” There’s a feint like she’s going to kick him again, before she will mosey on towards the front door.
“
Like he…” She will stop herself from cussing with a look at the little boy. “I’d prefer the cops not come nosing at me, looking for a name.” Even Dax only knows her as Rogue, after all.
*
“Take the car,” Dax says to Rogue, tossing her the keys as she steps outside. “I’ll bus back after all this is cleaned up,” he explains. Gonna stay with the woman and the kid, make sure Earl doesn’t try anything (now that Rogue has laid him out, broken some ribs probably, she can’t possibly think he’ll be much of a threat). Get the story straightened out with the cops. Serve the asshole his papers. That kind of thing. “That cool? I’ll meet up with you later tonight.” He seems pretty set on the plan; he’s had to deal with police more than a few times, so Dax has this on lockdown, as the kids say.
*
Rogue will catch the keys, looking at Dax uncertainly. “How are you gonna explain him bein’ laid out on the floor?” Maybe she should stay, but.. Cops make her nervous. Always have, since she was on the streets. She gets even more sassy and defiant than usual, and it probably would not end will.
She gnaws on her bottom lip, looking up at Dax through her lashes. “I don’t want to get you in trouble, either.” She will glance at Stacy, before she smiles for the kid, a wink at him.
*
“I’ll figure something out,” Dax says. Will he take credit? Probably. Will Earl be willing to admit he got his ass kicked by a girl? Probably not. “Don’t worry about it, things’ll work out fine.” He looks at Stacy and the kid. “For everyone.” The sirens are getting closer, but there’s still a few minutes for Rogue to get off the scene before they show up. “Just don’t scratch the paint,” he says, clearly joking, because hell, it’s a Prius and who cares?
*
Rogue will lean up and kiss Dax’ cheek. “If you have to tattle on me to protect your job, you do that, you hear?” She whispers to him, green eyes looking up. “Call me when you need to be picked up.”
She will turn to Stacy, a long look. “You got the chance to get free of him, you take it. You kick him out of your life and you keep him out. He ain’t gonna do you no good.”
She will bend down and hug the little boy, ruffle his hair. “You take good care of your momma now. It’s gonna get better, now.”
She will scamper down and towards the Prius. At least she knows her and the cops is a bad idea.
*
There might be a bit of a blush when Rogue kisses his cheek. If anyone asks, he’ll say that was her powers, but that would be a lie. “Get out of here, I’ll give you a shout when I’m done,” he says in reply before she takes off to the car.
Stacy just gives Rogue a nod, and hugs her son tighter against leg, and Charlie gives Rogue a little smile and wave. Once she’s clear, Dax will start talking again, getting the story straight for the police. No lies (well, except the part where Dax knocked Earl the fuck out), but maybe some varnished truths about exactly what happened so as to keep Rogue out of it.
When all is said and done, Dax has to make a statement, Earl gets taken into custody, and Stacy has to answer some embarrassing questions, but it looks like everything will work out fine. Dax even gets the chance to serve Earl his papers, though he’s in cuffs in the back of a squad car when it happens.
All’s well that ends well.