The old black man sniffed a little in the doorway leading to the dining room. Scott wasn't here. He hadn't been since
yesterday. The thought troubled the old man, until he heard a soft Southern accent say, "Mr. Johnson, sir, Mr. Summers
said that he wouldn't be able to make it down to dinner. He also said that you would be able to help me."
There was a hand at his elbow, and a young woman leading him to a table. The lighting was dimmer here, he decided, as a
chill washed over him. He sat on a padded chair, his cane resting against the table. He folded his hands on the polished
wood. "Well now, little missy, I don't like being called 'Mr. Johnson'. I prefer Tommy. And you must have a name to go
with that pretty little voice o' yours."
"Rogue." She answered quietly.
"Rogue? Now, missy, why don't you give me your real name, and then we can be on even terms with each other."
Scott had said not to question anything that he said. "Marie." She answered, even softer that the first time.
"Well now, that wasn't so hard, now was it.?" There was a chuckle in his voice.
Marie scowled. First Logan had left, now some old man was making fun of her. "Look, I can just leave if you want."
"No, no. I don't know my way around this place. I need you to help me."
Marie sighed. They were in a secluded corner of the dining hall. The table was dusty and there were cobwebs, but she didn't
mind.
Now, about how this man could help her… She took her time in studying him, she had learned to study everyone around her
to assess the potential danger they could be. He was very old, and there were wrinkles all over his brown face. He was a
dark brown, darker than Storm. His hair was short and white, and he had gray stubble on his chin and upper lip. He walked
with a limp, so he couldn't run after her. This Tommy man didn't seem like that much of a threat. His old brown hat sat on a
table. It was floppy and well worn. His slacks were also brown, and his simple shirt was white. He looked like he had just
jumped out of the 1920's.
"Well now, aren't you gittin' a little bit hungry? I know I am."
The elderly voice, which was soft yet strong, broke through her thoughts. "Yeah, I suppose I am."
She led him to the salad bar, where he loaded up on carrots and peas. "You can't ever have too many vegetables." Rogue
just got a simple salad. The main course was fried chicken. She got two pieces, while he proceeded to take half a chicken.
"What?" he asked when he felt her quizzical gaze on him. "I like chicken."
~~~***~~~
A Month Later...
Tommy had gotten to like Marie, and now they had their little talks ever so often. He was getting antsy for color again, so
when she next came, he said, "Sit down, Marie. I got a question for you."
"All right." She sat down in an overstuffed blue chair that he had in a corner of his room. She was wearing a dab of peach
oil today, because he mentioned that he liked peaches. Her black leather pants hugged her figure, and made swishy noises
when she walked. Her black satin gloves came up to the middle of her arms, and then the sleeves of the white shirt she was
wearing took over. The shirt wasn't very long, and had a V neckline. Her black scarf completed the outfit.
"What's your favorite color, Marie?" He was needing color again.
"My… give me a second." The personalities were screaming again. 'Silver' shouted Magneto. 'White' yelled David. 'Kid,
ignore them and concentrate on your favorite color.' Logan said, growling at the other voices until they faded into silence.
"Purple." She was certain about that.
"Well now, explain it to me."
"What?"
"You heard me. Explain the color purple to me."
"Oh, through emotions and stuff, right? Just like Scott?"
"Just like Scott."
"Well then, I suppose that it all started when I was a little girl. My first dress was lavender. But I hate that shade. That was
my childhood shade. But lavender is soft, almost white, but with a splash of color worked in. No, I like Notorious Violet.
Notorious Violet is a hard shade, and it packs a punch. It's a deep purple mixed in with a hint of blue. I saw a a shirt made
out of it once. When I bought it, it was just a limp little piece of silk. When I put it on, wow. That was a young boy talking
there, not me."
"Well now, as much as I liked this, how did Notorious Violet make you feel?" The blind man's voice was scratchy and had
undertones of the South in it.
Marie was silent for a moment. Then she spoke. "I can't really put it into words, but I'll try. The color made me feel daring.
Flirty, sexy, wantable. It put a normally conservative girl into full on Southern Belle mode. I giggle, I flirted, I kissed. All
because of the color.
"It was a dangerous color. Now, however, I need another color to help me become less dangerous." She looked down at her
gloved hands. "But that color was my escape. It helped me become something that I wasn't, but I had fun playing the part of."
"So, you're saying that this shade of purple made you… Rogue?"
She paused, surprised at the man's insight into her little story. "Yeah, well, I never thought about it before. But I suppose that
you could be right."
He smiled. "You go on back to your room. Think a little bit. I'll be at supper."
~~~***~~~
Rogue held the soft purple shirt in her arms. She had long since out-grown it, but she had brought it with her anyway. The
softness of the silk comforted her, and helped her to slowly start to let go of the past. There were two dark spots on the shirt,
and Marie realized she was crying. But that was OK, because tears were a solution at this point. She picked up the phone
and dialed an extension. "Jubes? It's me. Yeah. I won't be coming to dinner tonight. Will you see over Tommy for me?
Thanks. And Jubes, he might be able to help you. Talk with him a little bit."
yesterday. The thought troubled the old man, until he heard a soft Southern accent say, "Mr. Johnson, sir, Mr. Summers
said that he wouldn't be able to make it down to dinner. He also said that you would be able to help me."
There was a hand at his elbow, and a young woman leading him to a table. The lighting was dimmer here, he decided, as a
chill washed over him. He sat on a padded chair, his cane resting against the table. He folded his hands on the polished
wood. "Well now, little missy, I don't like being called 'Mr. Johnson'. I prefer Tommy. And you must have a name to go
with that pretty little voice o' yours."
"Rogue." She answered quietly.
"Rogue? Now, missy, why don't you give me your real name, and then we can be on even terms with each other."
Scott had said not to question anything that he said. "Marie." She answered, even softer that the first time.
"Well now, that wasn't so hard, now was it.?" There was a chuckle in his voice.
Marie scowled. First Logan had left, now some old man was making fun of her. "Look, I can just leave if you want."
"No, no. I don't know my way around this place. I need you to help me."
Marie sighed. They were in a secluded corner of the dining hall. The table was dusty and there were cobwebs, but she didn't
mind.
Now, about how this man could help her… She took her time in studying him, she had learned to study everyone around her
to assess the potential danger they could be. He was very old, and there were wrinkles all over his brown face. He was a
dark brown, darker than Storm. His hair was short and white, and he had gray stubble on his chin and upper lip. He walked
with a limp, so he couldn't run after her. This Tommy man didn't seem like that much of a threat. His old brown hat sat on a
table. It was floppy and well worn. His slacks were also brown, and his simple shirt was white. He looked like he had just
jumped out of the 1920's.
"Well now, aren't you gittin' a little bit hungry? I know I am."
The elderly voice, which was soft yet strong, broke through her thoughts. "Yeah, I suppose I am."
She led him to the salad bar, where he loaded up on carrots and peas. "You can't ever have too many vegetables." Rogue
just got a simple salad. The main course was fried chicken. She got two pieces, while he proceeded to take half a chicken.
"What?" he asked when he felt her quizzical gaze on him. "I like chicken."
~~~***~~~
A Month Later...
Tommy had gotten to like Marie, and now they had their little talks ever so often. He was getting antsy for color again, so
when she next came, he said, "Sit down, Marie. I got a question for you."
"All right." She sat down in an overstuffed blue chair that he had in a corner of his room. She was wearing a dab of peach
oil today, because he mentioned that he liked peaches. Her black leather pants hugged her figure, and made swishy noises
when she walked. Her black satin gloves came up to the middle of her arms, and then the sleeves of the white shirt she was
wearing took over. The shirt wasn't very long, and had a V neckline. Her black scarf completed the outfit.
"What's your favorite color, Marie?" He was needing color again.
"My… give me a second." The personalities were screaming again. 'Silver' shouted Magneto. 'White' yelled David. 'Kid,
ignore them and concentrate on your favorite color.' Logan said, growling at the other voices until they faded into silence.
"Purple." She was certain about that.
"Well now, explain it to me."
"What?"
"You heard me. Explain the color purple to me."
"Oh, through emotions and stuff, right? Just like Scott?"
"Just like Scott."
"Well then, I suppose that it all started when I was a little girl. My first dress was lavender. But I hate that shade. That was
my childhood shade. But lavender is soft, almost white, but with a splash of color worked in. No, I like Notorious Violet.
Notorious Violet is a hard shade, and it packs a punch. It's a deep purple mixed in with a hint of blue. I saw a a shirt made
out of it once. When I bought it, it was just a limp little piece of silk. When I put it on, wow. That was a young boy talking
there, not me."
"Well now, as much as I liked this, how did Notorious Violet make you feel?" The blind man's voice was scratchy and had
undertones of the South in it.
Marie was silent for a moment. Then she spoke. "I can't really put it into words, but I'll try. The color made me feel daring.
Flirty, sexy, wantable. It put a normally conservative girl into full on Southern Belle mode. I giggle, I flirted, I kissed. All
because of the color.
"It was a dangerous color. Now, however, I need another color to help me become less dangerous." She looked down at her
gloved hands. "But that color was my escape. It helped me become something that I wasn't, but I had fun playing the part of."
"So, you're saying that this shade of purple made you… Rogue?"
She paused, surprised at the man's insight into her little story. "Yeah, well, I never thought about it before. But I suppose that
you could be right."
He smiled. "You go on back to your room. Think a little bit. I'll be at supper."
~~~***~~~
Rogue held the soft purple shirt in her arms. She had long since out-grown it, but she had brought it with her anyway. The
softness of the silk comforted her, and helped her to slowly start to let go of the past. There were two dark spots on the shirt,
and Marie realized she was crying. But that was OK, because tears were a solution at this point. She picked up the phone
and dialed an extension. "Jubes? It's me. Yeah. I won't be coming to dinner tonight. Will you see over Tommy for me?
Thanks. And Jubes, he might be able to help you. Talk with him a little bit."