Like, not literally. I mean, did I even have any power of thought? But I can’t think while gazing at this righteousness. Because the entire get-up is heeled, spandex-wonder. Threatening to snap synapses at their base and spit them into the void.
Yeah, don’t let Rogue’s lovely eyes and demeanor trick you. That kiss is going to kill your ass at worst, and at best syphon your fledgling mutant powers. Still though. Tempting.
This is all the wonder. Rogue rocking out in a full-body suit, daring my latex fetish to subvert my already feeble consciousness. If I let the drive win, I’ll wake up wearing a Gambit costume. Covered in indistinct hairs. Screaming for the whip.
Oh Sweet Baby Jesus in Heaven, praise you. Praise you for this wonderful monument to the glory of spandex, the female form, and the X-Men. There are fewer testaments to your will and grace that I can think of, though I should mention I’m having a hard time thinking straight at all right now.