Rogue did not let go of his hand. And she found she didn't like it when he moved away, wincing at the loss of contact. She wet her lips and tasted him there and had to glance down to keep herself from blushing. What had happened seemed so unreal.

The room they entered as they exited the closet appeared to mimic a fancier hotel room. There was a table set for two, some kind of kettle steaming, a plush sofa facing bay windows that looked out into the night sky... and a queen-sized bed, looming proudly with its covers turned down out of a corner.

Rogue hesitated, uncertain. Her gaze flicked around the room - but the lights were on and the door had hinges and... she was holding hands with someone out of her dreams, her skin pressed to his without fear. Her psyches were silent, her powers still 'out,' and... it wasn't as if they were in any danger.

Still, she glanced up at him, looking for some kind of cue. "What do ya think?"