It's Rogue, actually, and she grips Scott's shoulder to steady him. "Ok there, Marshal?" She asks. She bothers to remember this is not particularly in character. She and Scott Summers are on opposite sides of the law in this world, and this version of herself is likely self-serving enough that she wouldn't mind if he got roughed up a little. On the other hand, she's not sure she wants to play out any universe where she wouldn't help a functionally blind man who'd just been punched.
"And what the hell you think you're doing?" She starts to lecture the drunk. "This man's just enjoyin'..." But drunk men wait for no lectures, and he sends another punch flying. Rogue catches it this time, again without thinking, and hisses in surprise. Without her durability powers intact, the blow to her cheek actually kind of hurts. That's new.
seeingredscott summers ⊗ cyclopsDate: 2025-07-14 02:45 am (UTC)
A chorus of shouts goes around the room, which gives Scott an idea of what just happened. His ears are still ringing, but he steadies himself against Rogue's presence. There's still a picture in his mind of the saloon's layout, and he places them on the map, along with the probable location of their attacker. The bar is to their left. The exit is behind them. He doesn't trust himself to open his eyes without doing serious damage.
Footsteps sneaking up on them—someone heavy, moving fast. Scott whips around, one arm up to catch the wooden stool coming down on them, and then ducks below the stool-wielder's defenses to throw a punch. An unpleasant shock passes through Scott's fist as he makes contact (electricity powers?), but he hears an "oof" and someone stumbling back.
Rogue spares exactly one moment to take off her gloves and lays them delicately on the bar, wiping a small stream of blood from her nose. A spark shines in her eye when she spins around to see who'd just approached, just enough time to see him fall back. She kindly catches the assailant, taking just enough of his force to bring him gently to the ground. Her hands buzz with the electricity they'd just absorbed.
"Golden." She answers. She notes Scott's glasses. They're on the floor, several feet away. She can't quite make a grab yet, not with the atmosphere in the bar exploding into a solid rumble of indignation. She backs up towards them, trying to get there eventually.
"Sure made a lot of friends real quick, didn't you?" Another man, who seems to be an expert at dashing, rushes towards them, but she catches him with a bit of a shocking punch.
"I have that effect on people." Scott keeps his hands up to defend himself, his head swiveling for the sound of other attacks. There's too much shouting, too much chaos. He trusts that Rogue has things well in hand, but he's too conscious of himself as a liability in this situation. He can't discern a safe place to go.
There is one obvious route, but it goes against every bit of his training to lose control while surrounded by so many innocent people. Technically, it's a memory. No more real than the Danger Room. Scott grits his teeth, hating this, but when he feels someone grab him, he opens his eyes and sends them sailing straight through a window.
The bar does go quiet just for a moment, awed into silence by the ruby force beams suddenly shooting out of the Marshal's head. Rogue doesn't think she's seen them without being tempered by the visor, either, and stares at the outburst for exactly one second. That leaves her long enough to then dip across the floor and grab Scott's glasses.
The patrons are just drunk enough that his threat must've sounded like an offering, and they're beginning to be a little swarmed. "Seems like a yes." She informs him, pressing the glasses into his hand, and punching a man in the gut with her free one. "You wanna make a run, or ought we show them what an actual fair fight looks like?"
DAY 1 | Evening - Scott & Rogue
"And what the hell you think you're doing?" She starts to lecture the drunk. "This man's just enjoyin'..." But drunk men wait for no lectures, and he sends another punch flying. Rogue catches it this time, again without thinking, and hisses in surprise. Without her durability powers intact, the blow to her cheek actually kind of hurts. That's new.
DAY 1 | Evening - Scott & Rogue
Footsteps sneaking up on them—someone heavy, moving fast. Scott whips around, one arm up to catch the wooden stool coming down on them, and then ducks below the stool-wielder's defenses to throw a punch. An unpleasant shock passes through Scott's fist as he makes contact (electricity powers?), but he hears an "oof" and someone stumbling back.
"Everything okay?" he calls back to Rogue.
DAY 1 | Evening - Scott & Rogue
"Golden." She answers. She notes Scott's glasses. They're on the floor, several feet away. She can't quite make a grab yet, not with the atmosphere in the bar exploding into a solid rumble of indignation. She backs up towards them, trying to get there eventually.
"Sure made a lot of friends real quick, didn't you?" Another man, who seems to be an expert at dashing, rushes towards them, but she catches him with a bit of a shocking punch.
DAY 1 | Evening - Scott & Rogue
There is one obvious route, but it goes against every bit of his training to lose control while surrounded by so many innocent people. Technically, it's a memory. No more real than the Danger Room. Scott grits his teeth, hating this, but when he feels someone grab him, he opens his eyes and sends them sailing straight through a window.
"Anyone else?" he yells, eyes closed again.
DAY 1 | Evening - Scott & Rogue
The patrons are just drunk enough that his threat must've sounded like an offering, and they're beginning to be a little swarmed. "Seems like a yes." She informs him, pressing the glasses into his hand, and punching a man in the gut with her free one. "You wanna make a run, or ought we show them what an actual fair fight looks like?"