LOG: Art Centino & Rogue. SUMMARY: Art's a quick stop on Rogue's kiss list. Backdated to October 1st!
ROGUE: Rogue was on a tear.
Three years of celibacy--three years of doing nothing at all, as a matter of fact--had amounted to a few things. One, she didn't take anything for granted anymore. If her powers could simply up and leave her after three years of wrapping herself in extra layers and getting skittish when people entered the two-foot radius she imagined around herself to keep physically apart from others, then it was too good to be true. They could come back at any time, she was convinced--whether the time was in the next five minutes or in the next five months, who could say? Two, not being able to touch people had brought her down to earth quite a bit: She couldn't afford to have fun the way everyone else did. Each opportunity she had might be her last, so she had to take things like hookups seriously. And yet, at the same time--she'd spent hours sitting alone in her room and on the balcony, thinking with her fingertips to her lips as she anxiously watched the clock tick by the minutes. She was trapped: If she made terrible decisions (and, knowing herself, she was probably bound to do so), she might regret them later. If she decided not to do anything about it, just based on sheer hesitance, she would definitely be upset with herself. What if this was the last fluke--what if, even when she was eighty years old, she still had these awful powers? She'd decided she wouldn't be able to live with herself. She had to go to the edge of the diving board and take a leap, no matter what the consequences. Even if it wasn't all worth it in the end, cramming what she would have done in a few years into the span of the next few hours, then at least it would be better than having done nothing at all. The management team was working to solve the "problem," and for all she knew, they would do it soon, and her opportunity would be gone forever. They weren't going to take it away from her.
Three, she was a risk-taker. She always had been, but not being able to touch had given her a deep and abiding sense of bitterness. In a way, Rogue pushed concern for consequences from her mind on a daily basis. What did she care if she went 95 MPH on a road at night? It was fun. It felt good, doing something so crazy. Just because she couldn't touch people didn't mean she couldn't get her thrill fix in other ways. And now here she was, with the opportunity to jump right off without looking. It should have suited her, and in a way it did, but there was still a nagging feeling that she didn't have much time left.
So now, when she was knocking on Art Centino's door, dressed in semi-revealing clothes for the first time around other people in years--and God, it felt bittersweet; it felt amazing and scary and daring at the same time--she had something other than a mere birthday wish on her mind. Or rather, she had a specific kind of birthday wish on her mind. If there was one boy in the world who was almost alien in the sense that he seemed to have no capacity to be sleazy whatsoever, it was Art.
ART: It was true, Art Centino was possibly the least sleazy guy in the hotel. It wasn't even a lack of experience or knowledge on his account, he had honestly lost count of the amount of times he'd been dragged off to a dark corner. Not that he would have started counting in the first place, the whole thing baffled him more than a little, but when it came down to it he had fun and more importantly, the girls involved had fun as well. And that was the most important part, right? Art didn't need a lot to keep him happy, and as long as he wasn't making someone else UNhappy, then it was all good.
He hadn't really thought the ramifications of the power loss through to any logical conclusion, he'd gotten as far as knowing his visions wouldn't be happening, and that he wanted to stick around to be on hand in case people needed help. Not that he had really thought how he could be of help to people, but that wasn't the point. He hadn't even given a whole lot of thought to the fact that it was his birthday and the planned hang out at Inferno wasn't really going to happen. It didn't bother him much at all, his birthday was just another day, after all. The knock at the door surprised him out of his thoughts, and he jumped up to answer it, his usual cheerful smile a little strained.
"Oh hey Rogue!" The smile brightened some more at seeing her, Rogue was definitely one of his favourite people at the hotel. "You're looking really pretty today!"
ROGUE: For a moment, Rogue simply looked at him. "Thanks, sugah." Her voice was soft--her accent could be soothing and musical when she wasn't snapping at people. "I just came t'tell you happy birthday--an' I'm hopin' ya haven't had too many o'these already." Her expression relaxed suddenly, a soft smile finding its way to her face as she stepped closer, rising onto her toes. Before Art had time to react, she'd placed her hands onto his shoulders and tilted her head slightly. The movement had the slightest, probably imperceptible bit of hesitance to it, as though she wasn't quite sure whether some unfortunate bolt of lightning was about to crackle down from the sky and suddenly make her untouchable again--but her lips met his regardless, warm and soft and inviting.
ART: Art had been going to say thank you in response to the birthday greetings, except then suddenly Rogue was a lot closer than he expected and -- oh hi! That would be her kissing him. That was definitely unexpected - but certainly not unwelcome. He caught her around the waist to make sure she didn't overbalance, returning the kiss for a few brief moments before he drew away with a grin on his face. "Nope, I definitely haven't had one of those yet today!" Not that he would have complained if he really had, but on the other hand -- a kiss from Rogue for your birthday was pretty damn special, all on its lonesome.
ROGUE: Well--hunh. It had been a little weird, kissing Art. Weirder than kissing Booby, who had been surprisingly--receptive. More than receptive. "Well, I'm glad t'be the first," she teased, running a finger down his cheek, then leaned in again to playfully peck where her fingertip had been a moment before. "An' ya better appreciate it--for all I know, it's the last one I'll ever give." But she wasn't thinking about that too deeply. She didn't want to think about it too hard. She pulled away and settled back onto her feet, brushing a few strands of hair off her shoulder to hang down her back. "Come out t'the pool in a couple hours, an' I might even give ya a birthday show," she winked. Although with Art, there was nothing genuinely sexual about it, she liked leaving things ambiguous today. "I'm dyin' to show everybody my swan dive--or maybe I jus' want to show 'em me." In a bikini, because for all her liberation today, she wasn't going to strip. At least, not at a pool. And with that, she was off down the hall, a kind of lightheartedness in her step that she rarely employed. Two boys down, about fifteen to go.