Kitty poked one finger against Remy's inert form. "I think he's out for the count," she said matter-of-factly.

"You think?" Rogue retorted.

Hank furrowed his brows.

"Awful fast," Logan said dryly.

"My exact conclusions, esteemed friend," Hank replied. Then he went scrounging around on the medical tray.

"If you even think about poking one more thing into me," Rogue threatened, but she didn't get to finish. Hank, seeing his opening, popped the pH monitor under her tongue and left her spluttering in anger.

"Please desist in your struggles," Hank admonished cheerfully. "It will be mere moments before I am able to compile the data resulting from this most fruitful enterprise."

Rogue glared at him, arms crossed, mouth closed around the hated paddle.

Kitty tried very hard not to giggle and Logan pointed the most unsympathetic grin in her direction.

When she was finally allowed to remove the thing, she glared at Hank again. "You meddling opportunist!"

"On the contrary," Hank began with a flourish, one eye and hand still on his clipboard of burgeoning notes, "I have been requested by your most astute person to assist you in the understanding and development of your full capabilities. In such circumstances, you have already entrusted me with the task of executing all necessary procedures to bring about this worthy goal."

She stared blankly.

Kitty leaned over and whispered in her ear. "So what was Remy thinking anyway?"

Rogue blushed dark red and glared at her friend.

Kitty wrinkled up her nose in confusion.

Logan interjected. "How soon before you get the results, Hank?"

Hank frowned, eyes on the notes. "I believe that twenty-four hours will be sufficient to extrapolate on the evidence. This was a rather successful enterprise, and we may be able to move ahead with theorizing on how best to determine which one of your powers will manifest."

Rogue, Logan, Kitty, and Piotr stared blankly.

Hank sighed longsufferingly. "Come back tomorrow."

"Oh," they said in chorus.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

Remy woke with a blazing headache with a big, blue, furry face about three inches away from his. Beast. He blinked. A large, disgustingly cheerful and enthusiastic Beast.

He groaned.

"You are awake, my good comrade," Hank stated—going against all the obvious signs of nonfunctionality right in front of him, as far as Remy was concerned. "Please tell me, what exactly was your experience when her epidermis first contacted yours?"

The ceiling was still shaking. He could barely hear over the pounding in his head.

"How 'bout I get back to you on that one, non?" Remy winced at the pain of speaking. "You feel like dimming the lights?"

Hank hummed thoughtfully. "Perhaps you can instead describe your current symptoms?"

"Spinning. Lights." Remy squinted up at Hank. "Lights."

Mercifully, the lights went dim. Remy sighed in bliss—until he noticed the quiet sounds of wheels approaching. Dieu, could it get any worse?

"Hank, let him rest for a few moments," Xavier said quietly. And then that gentle mental touch requesting admittance. "This would be a purely physical scan of your brain's reaction to her," Xavier said.

Purely physical. Remy fumed. He undergoes medical--medical!—nightmares to assist Rogue, with absolutely no gratitude and now they wanted to put him under a telepath too?

"It is part of the process," Hank pointed out. "The results of the monitors are not as complete without a brain scan."

If Remy didn't feel like roadkill, he'd just skip out from underneath them in the dim room, but of course, he did so he couldn't. He crossed his own arms.

"How 'bout not?"

Logan chuckled.

Wait! Monsieur Claws was still here?

"I'd hate to think you were backing out now?" Logan said wryly.

Remy started praying then.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

The nerve of him! Rogue fumed as she paced back and forth in her bedroom, trying desperately to tamp down on all the naughty images running through her head, the thoughts of how pretty she was, how much he wanted to kiss her, couldn't hurt that bad, non?, how he admired her assets and even her temper!

Rogue huffed and collapsed across her bed. How could she win with a guy that liked being laid out in the middle of the floor with her looming threateningly over him?

"Masochist," she muttered.

Oh, chère, you have no idea. The chuckle inside her turned her stomach inside out.

"Shut up!"

Another low chuckle. But this is fun.

Rogue growled. "I ain't having fun, you swamp rat!"

Somebody ought to teach you how, then, he replied then, nonplussed.

Another growl.

Another chuckle.

A girl phased through the door and pounced on her.

Rogue groaned and buried her face in her pillow. "Go away, Kit," she protested feebly, arm trying to shove back her misguided girlfriend.

"Resistance is futile," Kitty intoned, then proceeded to yank the pillow away from Rogue so her face went splat on the spread. "What was Remy thinking? I just got to know."

"Please, just please go away."

You know, you could just tell her. More definitely x-rated images.

"My eyes! My virgin eyes!" Rogue bemoaned.

Kitty blinked. "You know, this voices thing is just too weird."

Another chuckle.

"Shut up!"

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