(no subject)

[coercive]

[She lets the others go ahead of her. The window to get to safety is so small, but she's not ready to leave yet. Promising Delilah that she'll show up eventually, Laura watches her friends leave. Rictor guides the group quickly, and Laura watches them until she can't see Bobby with his Wolverine doll any longer. When she's truly alone she turns to stare at the grave she's watching over. Day turns to dusk, then quickly to night.

She's standing guard over the man who made her promise to move on and not be what she was created to be.

It's after midnight when she finally sits, resting against her backpack.

She dozes off once or twice, but never actually sleeps. She watches the sunrise over the lake, then sets to putting wildflowers on the freshly piled dirt. Knowing that she needs to try and find her friends, she starts to get up to leave.

The sound of something beneath the dirt catches her ear. She thinks it sounds like a muffled scream. When the dirt starts to rustle, she realizes what's going on. Her heart catches in her throat and she makes a muted scream of terror as she hurries to start digging. She moves in a frenzy, scooping and digging with her hands. She ends up with bloodied fingers and knuckles that heal right away, but the end result is her staring across at a very alive Wolverine.

Logan.

Her father.

She stares with wide eyes, and reaches up to touch at his face. Lips trembling, she tries to wipe away some of the dirt and mud. There's so much of it, along with the blood.]

Daddy?

[It doesn't feel strange to call him that. Not after saying it already. There's not a ton of distance between them, but she launches herself at him anyway, arms wrapping around him in a crushing hug.]

Comments

[coercive]

[She makes a vague sound, one that clearly says she disagrees with him. Words are a little difficult for her to come by right now, when she's feeling so many emotions so strongly.

They're not in any immediate danger here, so she isn't pressed to make him get up and move. She sits silently, eyes sliding closed. It only takes a handful of seconds for her to doze off, but she doesn't stay that way for long. She's too restless for that.

When she snaps awake, she sits upright, looking all around for a sign of danger. The people that might hunt them are gone for now, and any animal that may be dangerous would be stupid to think the two of them are prey.]


Come. [She moves to get up, and keeps her hand in his. The tugs she gives him are gentle.]

Levántate. Get up.

[regenerative]

[ it should't be such a surprise he doesn't want to get up. when he gets comfortable and begins to doze off himself, he doesn't even want to open his eyes at the slightly sound or movement he feels and hears. despite the twenty or so hours he's had being whatever the fuck he was in the ground, he still feels like he's running on exhaustion. that old body of his needs more time to heal, and he feels like giving it the entire length of a year to come back to him. ]

[ he almost doesn't register her words, not acknowledging her moving from where she's resting against him, and ends up looking at her stupidly as she stands. despite her tugs, logan doesn't move. the muscle and skin where the branch had penetrated his chest hurts like a bitch when he so much as breathes, but he sucks it up, grits his teeth, and shifts his legs as though he's about to move. ]

Give me a minute. [ it's rough again. ]

[ he does, eventually, get himself up onto his feet after a few unsuccessful starts and a lot of stumbling. his hand remains in hers all the while. ]

[coercive]

[He smells like death. Death and blood, and she can feel the pain radiating off of him. It makes her anxious enough that she feels like she might panic. He's not healing like he should be, he can barely stand up.

She grits her teeth and bares as much of the weight as she can, trying to hold him up so he doesn't stumble. As much as she wants to get him to a motel so she can get him cleaned up and get food in him so his body has energy to burn, she knows that isn't going to happen.

Not unless -]

There were trucks.

[Pierce and his Reavers were in them. Most of them aren't operational or even in one piece, but maybe she can find one that works. They're not so far off that it'd be any trouble, but she's reluctant to leave him here alone. He can barely stand, and she's paranoid something might happen to him. If she blinks, he might keel over and die again. ]

[regenerative]

[ truth be told, he feels like keeling over. but logan knows he can't. she might have the agility and the tenacity of a wolverine to take on an army of grown men and live to tell the tale, but she's not old enough to have to experience this. he does his best not to lean all his weight on her. ]

[ he breathes in deeply, exhaling long and slow. it causes pain to spark in his body, lingering for a while before it seems to hum low and waiting, almost like a predator waiting for its prey to move again. standing is painful, just as lying down makes him feel like everything inside of him is on fire. he does his best not to alert her to it, although he knows he's doing a shit job already. ]

[ it takes him a moment to respond. ] One of them has to be useable. [ one of them has to be waiting for them. they had enough vehicles to corner the young mutants if they knew how to use them, but in a rush to try and round them up like sheep, they'd lost any advantage they had on wheels. he knows one of those trucks has to have survived the carnage. ]

You go. I'll be behind you.

[coercive]

No.

[She says it firmly. Pulling away from him, she turns so she's facing him directly. He's her father, and she'll listen to him (most of the time) when he's doing better. But for now, she's put herself in charge. It's her turn to take care of him. ]

You wait. I will be back.

[She points right to the spot a few times, and gives him a look that says he better listen. Reluctantly, she pulls away, taking off at a recklessly fast speed. It doesn't take her any time to reach the area where the vehicles were waiting. It takes her even less time to find a usable truck, and to locate the keys.

The truck pulls up toward him and comes to a stop. The passenger door opens, and Laura waits for him to get in before scooting back over to the driver's seat. Without even looking at him, she puts the truck in drive as soon as she hears his door shut. She's not about to give him time to tell her that he's driving.]

[regenerative]

[ he lets out a sigh, despite being a little more than grateful he doesn't have to make the trek from where they are now to where the trucks are. the land here isn't even. he knows that, given how difficult it'd been running up toward this spot before he took any of the green serum. ]

[ when he hears the engine of a truck approaching, logan pulls himself up from where he's chosen to sit — not a good idea, in hindsight — and looks at her with a slightly unimpressed look to see her in the driver's seat. she shouldn't be the one taking care of him, but he knows he's not in any shape to be able to make sure she's okay. given he finds it painful to breathe and talk, he's no use to anybody when he's incapable of getting out a sentence without flinching. ]

[ he doesn't protest, though, climbing in and closing the door, not hiding how he winces when he's sitting upright against the seat. ]

We need to find your friends. [ he sounds winded when he says it, more like a very firm suggestion than one that's light and welcome for her to rebuff. they need to find her friends not for his sake, but hers. ]

[coercive]

No.

[She flatly responds, sounding just as gruff as he's capable of being. Her eyes are focused on the terrain ahead, but she glances over at him in order to see what state he's in. Realizing that he's worse off than she thought, she presses the gas pedal a little firmer. It's time to go faster.]

They are safe. Hiding. We can't get to them now.

[But soon, they'll be able to. It may be another month or two before the window opens again. He'll need to be able to move quickly in order to make it. Now that she has him back, her need to join her friends isn't as pressing. She knows Rictor will take care of them, and that they'll wait for her there. What's important to her is that her friends are safe, and she take care of him. Her own peace of mind can come later, once she's able to reunite with her friends and show them that Wolverine is alive and well.]

Soon. But not now.

[The terrain is bumpy, and as she speeds over it she feels bad that she's probably making him bounce around in the seat. As soon as they get to a path that looks close to being a road, she slows down enough that he isn't jostled as much.]

[regenerative]

[ her efforts of being accommodating are appreciated, even if he doesn't make so much as a noise — aside from the grunts that he's not quick enough to suppress — to inform her. logan doesn't quite have it in him to express any gratitude, given he's trying to keep himself as still as possible. it's hard, given the terrain and lack of any even roads, but he does his best. ]

[ continuing to wince, as though that'll suppress the pain, he lets out a deep breath through his nose. gripping the door handle, with his other hand pressed against his bloodied chest, he slouches in his seat. ]

You should've left with them.

[ he feels those bullets shifting, his mutation slowly working. it's never been this sluggish before, but he supposes it's only a matter of time before it kicks back into gear. he doesn't think to push the claws out through his knuckles, assuming that pain will be sharper than a branch through his chest. ]

[ his words come out slow, eyes closing, but he doesn't let himself fall asleep. ]

You need to be safe, too, kid.

[coercive]

I am safe with you.

[He had come back to find her, to save her. He protects her even when it kills him to do so. Any remaining doubts she had about their bond were wiped away when she heard him coming to help her, sacrificing himself so she and her friends could survive. She thinks that even if they were attacked now, he'd find a way to save her.

Thankfully, things are peaceful for the time being.]

And now you need me.

[He's not healing the way he should be. Her eyes look at the hole in his chest through his reflection in the windshield. It puts a frown on her face that settles in deep, and makes her look even more like a miniature version of him. All she's missing is the facial hair and cigar at this point.

By this point, the path is less bumpy. So she floors it, knowing that open road is coming up ahead. From there, it's only a matter of driving until they find a place to clean up and rest. They can't get a motel looking like this, so a rest stop it's going to have to be.]

[regenerative]

[ knowing he doesn't have to pretend with her, logan lets himself slide along the seat until his head's resting against the door. it's not comfortable, but it feels like it alleviates any pressure — and it gives his neck a bit of a break from needing to act stronger than the rest of his body. ]

[ while he knows he doesn't have to act as though he's not in pain, he tries to ensure his face is as guarded as he can make it. she's still just a kid, despite everything she's experienced, and what she doesn't need is to panic about him right now. ]

[ she needs to find her friends. but as stupidly stubborn as he tends to be, she won't set their truck along the right path to find them. ]

Yeah. [ he opens his eyes, looking at the road ahead. it's long, flanked by nature. he should be in the city. he should be with charles. it's on a breath he finishes his thought, ] I do.

[ isn't it as charles said? they need our help. someone has come along. he supposes it's only right to let her know she's that person, even though he very much wants to take that pressure to be a caretaker away from her. ]

I don't want to. [ he lifts his head, arching his brow a little. his voice remains rough when he poorly jokes, ] Don't let it get to your head.

[coercive]

[Her mouth turns upward into a little smile. It doesn't last long, but the fact that he's able to put it there at all is impressive. She's calm on the outside, but on the inside it feels like her stomach is doing flips and her heart is bouncing around. It's a chaotic feeling that she's used to, but instead of a fear brought on by being attacked and caged like an animal it stems from a fear of not doing enough to help him.

The next chunk of miles is spent in silence, with Laura focusing on driving. They pull into a run down old rest stop. Motioning for him to wait for her after parking the truck, she slips out and returns a couple of minutes later with an armful of paper towels and several bottled waters. The vending machine they've come from is clawed and kicked open.

Setting the things into the truck, she climbs inside after them, and fishes around in the back until she produces a med kit. Inspecting the contents, she finds enough to clean his wounds and attempt to bandage them if it's needed. There's also a syringe of whatever was given to X-24, the green serum of what could trigger his healing.

She pulls it out and holds it up for him to see.]

Míralo. Look.

[She knows to not give him more than a little a time, enough to help kick start his healing. ]

¿Quieres?

[regenerative]

[ logan falls asleep. ]

[ he doesn't mean to, but he's wasting energy on trying to stay awake when he knows he needs to rest. their bodies may be built slightly different from those around them, but at the end of the day, he's always healed best when he's had rest. his mind is more alert and he feels as though he's accrued enough energy to spend going to bars, causing trouble, or just plain running away. ]

[ when the truck stops, he starts, and he thinks to tell her not to worry, but she's got a mind of her own and a stubborn one to boot. his eyes close but open once she's back. not bothered to question her about how she got any of the junk she's brought back, he lets her do as she wants. it's a lot easier that way than to fight her in a battle he's going to lose. he winds the window down so he's getting fresh air, but he doesn't move from his slouched position on the passenger seat to glance over the shoulder of it to watch her. ]

[ a part of him wishes he had. what she presents to him picks at his heart, and logan finds himself standing at a crossroads once more. he looks at the serum with a slight arch to his brow, expression as unreadable as he can make it. there's no temptation to reach out and swipe it from her — and he wonders if he's even capable of it, comfortable enough to keep his hands in his lap than to move them. ]

[ he shakes his head. ] No. Can't take that again.

[coercive]

[No, he really can't. That's why she asked, to see if he'd choose wisely. After all that he's already taken, she isn't sure when he can have another dose. But she still puts it back in the kit to keep for another time, when he's a little better.

Right in that moment, she wishes her power was transferrable. That she could force his power to kick start and work, that she could make him feel a little better. She knows he's trying to hide how much pain he's in, but she's not good at acting. She can't hide the fact that she's becoming increasingly worried. Her first aid skills are basic at best, but decent enough to try to help him here.

With as gentle of a touch as she can manage, she works around the tattered and bloody mess that is his shirt. With the bottled water and the paper towels, she tries washing him as best as she can. It's no replacement for a shower or using the sink, but he can't exactly walk into the bathroom right now.]

I can get the bullets out.

[But she's not sure he'd really like her method of doing it, which is to use her mouth or her claws. She's also not sure he'd survive the use of her claws. Maybe the best thing to do after cleaning him up some is just to let him rest. ]

Maybe you will heal better....

[She desperately wants him to heal, to see his power working. The fear that he might not is evident in her voice, and she goes quiet when she hears her words start to tremble and crack.]

[regenerative]

[ he doesn't know how this is supposed to go. without the old man around to tell him to breathe and relax, give his mutation time to restart itself and come back to life, logan finds himself directionless. only vaguely does he recall ever having been without it, and he barely remembers how he'd survived then, with little to less no afflicted wounds so dangerously deadly on him. ]

[ he doesn't need to look at her to know that she's not exactly coping all that well. it doesn't surprise him, given she's still just a kid. lingering by his grave when she should've known better had been stupid. thinking she was just like any regular kid was also stupid. instinctually, he reaches out to grab her hand. ] Hey. [ he only lifts his head, feeling like the rest of his body is a heavy weight that can't be lifted right now. (he also doesn't want to move it.) ] I'll be okay. I've been through worse.

[ combining all the story arcs for the wolverine in those stupid comic books together, and that's possibly what he's referring to. he doesn't quite know; reading those stories had made him long for what used to be. but logan knows his mutation almost as well as the back of his own hand, and he suspects it's slowly coming back, albeit much like the old man he is trying to walk from one end of the world to the other — slowly. ]

You just have to give it time. It's working. [ just not in the way she's come to know it — his mutation isn't working as quickly as it used to, or even has it had when he hadn't pushed himself to and beyond the limit. ]

[coercive]

[She doesn't understand how normal kids do emotion. They feel like they're smothering her, choking the life out of her slowly. To care for someone the way she does him, and to worry about his health and safety makes her feel like she's slowly sinking into a hole and can't pull herself out.

But at the same time, it makes her feel alive in a way that lashing out in the middle of a fight just can't.]

You just need to rest. Then it will work better.

[But she can't get them a motel room, and he can't exactly move right now. So they're limited to staying in this truck, which essentially paints a giant target on them. Normally, she reacts to what's going on in the heat of the moment. Right now, they need a plan.

Her hand holds his and she lets him rest, watching him closely. She sniffs at the air to try and scent out any danger that might be approaching. They're safe here, for the time being, and she slumps back against the seat.

She's so tired too that it isn't long before her eyes slide closed. She wakes up hours later, when the sun is starting to set overhead. Blinking her eyes open, she looks over at him.]

[regenerative]

[ rest isn't something either of them seem to do well, but what he's dragged his body through and waking up six feet under knocks him right out. rather than fight her own suggestion — or summation, since it's what he knows he has to do anyway — he gives in. ]

[ he doesn't know how long he sleeps, but he knows it isn't the two days he passed out while in that little hut on the cliff side. when he looks over at her, he finds that she's actually capable of it — sleep, that peaceful thing that sometimes invites the nightmares in. logan stays where he is, slouched against the side of the truck. he shifts slightly to ensure circulation is still working, but he makes no attempts to get into the driver's seat. that's a battle he's bound to lose. ]

[ so, he waits. once she comes to, he's looking out the window, watching the sun and the sky remain where it's always been. ] Seems like I'm not the only one who needs rest. [ he shifts, trying to sit up straighter. he pulls a face and tries to pretend to himself that the mere shift of a leg doesn't send agonising pain right through his entire being. ] We need to go, find someplace else that isn't this truck. Think you can handle that?

[coercive]

[She wants to scoff at that question. Instead, she just looks surly at the fact he'd even have to ask.]

Of course I can handle that.

[She just barely resists the urge to say that she handled it just fine before. She's sure he remembers that, and if he doesn't, then she doesn't want to talk about it. It's easier to just wipe at her eyes and scoot over to turn the keys in the ignition. Action is always easier than words, and she shows him that she can handle what he's just said with ease.

Putting the truck in drive, she zooms down the road. In her head, she's trying to figure out how in the hell they're going to get anything done in the state they're in now. She could bring him to an animal doctor, maybe, but she figures that too many questions will be asked if she relies on any other adult for help.

Laura, being Laura, does something in an act of desperation. Letting him rest slumped over still, she speeds until they reach a small town. Parking the truck in a grocery store parking lot, she breaks into the SUV beside it.

The med kit from the truck is shoved into her backpack, then she carefully pulls him out of the truck and into the new vehicle. Once he's in the driver's seat, she takes off again. This time she drives for nearly an hour, and pulls in when it's well past dark at a seedy looking motel.

Without going to the front, she just uses her claws to break into one of the rooms at the back of the property, then goes back to the suv to get him. Moving him so much doesn't sit well with her, but it has to be done. She can get him into a bed that they'll be able to use until housekeeping comes by the next day.]

[regenerative]

[ logan wishes they were in that bumfuck town with that doctor who was keen to help him. it'd take a lot off her shoulders, and the guy seemed kind of like one of those souls charles would like. but they're too far from where someone would be of use, keeping quiet he's taken in wolverine with his incredible wounds. it's a thought he has and doesn't voice, instead finding himself drifting back to sleep. ]

[ it doesn't really surprise him how easily she takes the reins. if she's supposed to be anything like him, surviving would come to her easily — and it seems to. he barely registers they've changed vehicles, and when they're at that seedy motel in the parking lot, it feels as though it's not real at all. he knows where he is without feeling his feet on the ground, but he tries to wake himself up enough to ensure that he can feel his feet, those legs of his, and try and summon all the power he's ever held inside of himself so she doesn't have to drag his ass to the room she's chosen. ]

I can walk. [ he can't, though. over that threshold and he's wrapping his hand around the doorframe. thankfully, seedy motels are nothing like casinos in oaklahoma, with their long hallways, longer elevator rides, and big rooms. he does his best to try and walk himself to the bed, but he inevitably needs her help. ]

[ and drops right onto it, ensuring he's on his back. wincing, he takes in a deep breath, eyes closed, then opens them to look at the ceiling and try and centre himself. ]

[coercive]

[She doesn't say anything to his assertion that he can walk. She just grits her teeth and takes on as much of his weight as she can. In the end, she half drags him to the bed. But they make it, and he's as comfortable as he can possibly be. She goes to lock the door, securing all three locks before dragging a chair over to press against the door.

Her backpack is slung on the floor and then she goes over to the bed to make sure he's propped up well enough.]

I will be back.

[She says on her way toward the door. She grabs her backpack on the way out.]

Do not move.

[Something tells her he's not going to try. She moves the chair away from the door and slips out of the room, hurrying her way to find food. Instead of attacking and destroying the vending machines here, she goes to steal from a couple of 24 hour operating stores down the road. One's a liquor shop, where the employees don't even notice her slipping in or out. The second's a drug store with a pharmacy. She grabs as much as she can before running out, and rushing her way back to him.

Once she's in the room again, the doors are secured, and she starts to unpack her haul onto the small table in the room. Bottles of whiskey are set out, along with some bags of chips, candy bars, a box of Frosted Flakes, and some cans of cheerios. There's bottles of soda too, some shampoos and soaps to clean up with, and a bottle of fruity body spray to hopefully get the scent of death off of them. Some more medical supplies are among the pile, including bottles of basic pain pills.

She stands back and looks at her haul with a sense of satisfaction. Her hands are on her hips and everything.

She grabs a few things off the table and goes over to the bed so she can show him.]

Mira.

[She quietly urges him, holding up a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of the over the counter pain meds.]

Miralos. Look.

[She doesn't actually think the crappy medicine will help, but she's determined to try and take care of him.]

[regenerative]

[ even if he tried to, logan doesn't think he could move. he stays where he is, feeling the humming sensation of irritation burn somewhere deep inside of him. this isn't how this was meant to go. there was supposed to be charles, the sunseeker, getting the little brat over the border so she could stop bringing reavers and the past to him. but he's lost charles, relived somewhat of the past, and hasn't so much as found himself relieved of any of the pain he's been in for years. ]

[ but there's something that's returned to him, even though logan won't pinpoint what it is again. to derive a sense of purpose from helping someone — he thinks that's what's occupying laura right now, a sense of purpose in helping him, as he's incapable of actually refusing her right now. ]

[ lying on the bed, logan doesn't move. he can feel those bullets shift, like his mutation's slowly waking up from the grips of a deep, deep sleep, everything around it foggy as the world begins to sharpen into view. the pain he feels isn't from his open wounds, but the movement he can feel, ever so slow and sluggish, from that power that's kept him alive all this time. it's doing its job now, although at a much less intense pace and with less care than laura. ]

[ he does his best to keep himself alert. although he's incapacitated, and a wolverine like that isn't much of a wolverine at all, he knows he needs to ensure he can keep this room to themselves somehow. but she's back before he has to try and force himself to think up how he'd go about scaring away the landlord, backpack strapped to her back, and a proud little look on her face. ]

[ when she speaks spanish, he can't even register what that word may have meant from what feels like long ago. it isn't until she translates that he does look, barely lifting his head to see her findings. ]

You did good. [ positive reinforcement seems to go a long way, especially with this one. he doesn't think it's going to help much, but he keeps that comment to himself. ] You got anything I can use to cut these bullets out?

[coercive]

[She sets both the whiskey and pill bottle on a bedside table and heads back over to her supply of stolen goods to grab a pair of medical tweezers that she grabbed. She brings them to him and looks him over, wondering if she should volunteer to do it for him. She doesn't want to damage his pride more than it already might be, so she bites her tongue and just hands them over.]

There is alcohol and bandages too. If you need them.

[She will, however, move to help him sit up, and be ready for him to lean on if he wants to walk his way into the bathroom to use the mirror. Her earlier panic is gone now, her need to take care of him and get him on his feet motivating her and giving her enough purpose that she can't afford to be afraid.]

There is a shower. I can get us new clothes.

[All he needs to do is say the word and she'll do it.]

[regenerative]

[ there are some things logan thinks he should keep her far away from, and that's taking responsibility for him. although he supposes he might be too late in that regard, it's something he can continue to strive for nonetheless. as much help as it would be if she was the one to try and help those bullets move, leaving enough space for his mutation to take proper effect, he decides to go for the alternative. she's already done enough. ]

[ he looks at her for a long moment. ] You need some new clothes. We don't want anyone asking questions. [ the blood on her clothing is enough of a telltale sign someone will involve themselves in their business if she doesn't get herself cleaned up. logan, on the other hand, just looks like he's been hit by a semi. what a pair. ]

[ he begins to move, voice changing as he strains it and himself in moving so slowly he doesn't quite know if he's moving at all. ] I'll see if I can clean myself up.

[coercive]

[She's not used to having to care about what she looks like. It's still a new concept to her, other people looking her over, but she's starting to add in other people's unwanted attention upon her into how she calculates her appearance.

She glances down at all the blood on her clothes and nods. She can take care of this. Her eyes watch him move, and she has to fight herself to keep from stepping in close and helping him walk. He needs to do this on his own, and so she'll let him.

Instead, she hurries back out of the room and strikes out to hunt down some clothes. Most everywhere in town is closed by now, so she just acquires what she can from stores that are closed. They're easy enough to break into.

She also takes some money from some, enough that she can walk into a 24 hour burger place and get some things to go. She made sure to keep her front side covered with her backpack so no one would see or ask anything.

Hurrying back to the room, she places the bag of burgers and fries on the table and lays the clothes out on the bed. She thinks she's guessed his size well enough, but has gotten a few things for him to try. For herself, she's grabbed a few things. One of which is a pair of kids rainbow stripe pajamas. She's busy looking at them up close when she hears the water stop running.

Not sure if he's finished or not, she looks over toward the bathroom door.]

You have clothes here.

[Gathering them up for him, she opens the bathroom and tosses everything she got for him inside.]

[regenerative]

[ how many times has he found himself standing in front of a mirror, trying to push bullets from where they're embedded deep in his skin? logan had wondered if there'd ever be a time where he wouldn't find himself here, bloodying an otherwise clean sink, staring at a mirror he only wants to crack. it's always been a difficult, painful process, but it feels worse now — the bullets don't particularly will themselves out, as if under the control of magneto's will, but seem to sit, as if waiting for something. ]

[ perhaps his mutation properly kicking in. it's waiting for him to flick some switch, although he's not sure where it is or even how to flick it. ]

[ he stays there, upright, for as long as she's out, and even when she returns. he's got the tweezers in hand, bloodied now from how he's dug into himself for the shrapnel, and silver pieces sit in the sink, staining it with bits of blood. his chest is a mess of broken flesh, but he makes no noise on trying to treat it. one thing at a time — get the bullets out, see if that unplugs his mutation. he can only hope for the best, given now he has a reason to ensure he's in tip top shape. ]

[ for a moment he doesn't acknowledge her, trying to push through all that familiar pain stinging under his skin. looking over his shoulder at her haul of clothes, he doesn't spend much time sizing it up. ] Thanks. [ his eyes flicker to her, fingers gripping the basin hard. ]

[ it feels unbalanced, her looking out for him, and so he inhales and decides it's about time he took a little more control. ] When was the last time you ate?

[coercive]

[She actually has to think about that. It's been a while since they had the time to stop and eat. She vaguely remembers eating with Rictor and Delilah the last day before they headed toward safety, but can't actually recall if she did or not. So she just shrugs and points over her shoulder with her thumb.]

There is food there now. Hamburguesas, papas fritas, tiras de pollo, tartas...

[Her stomach rumbles just talking about it, right on cue. She ignores it in favor of staring up at him and looking him over. Stepping in closer, she peers into the sink. The bullets in there make some of the tension in her shoulders vanish, though there's still the matter of his wounds not healing.

In the back of her mind she realizes that she'll eventually go through this, after she's lived for too long. She's less afraid of that than the idea that she might get him back only to lose him again right after.

She wants to ask why it isn't working, but knows that he likely doesn't have any definitive answers. ]