Rogue couldn't help herself. She laughed at that, the sound bitter and coarse to her own ears, but the humor real despite the thick darkness wrapped around it.

"Oh, that's rich," she told him, her voice a little more gravelly than usual, perhaps a bit of someone else leaking out from the depths of her mind. An old enemy, or maybe a jaded friend. It was hard to tell. "Being able to control your power but never even coming close to controlling my own. I'd give my right hand for an off switch for this curse." The phrasing there was definitely not her own.

But the sentiment behind the words was real. Yes, she'd come to accept her abilities, to appreciate them for what they could do in the field, and hell, she'd even relished being useful to the team that wouldn't be possible without her unique set of talents. The resentment would always be there, though, that hatred of the way her mutation kept her apart from the rest of the world, even her own kind. So many mutants over the years had been afraid of her, of what she could do... That wasn't the sort of emotionally damaging baggage you could shake.