(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]

[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. ]

[regenerative]

[ she rattles off a list and logan doesn't particularly feel any craving for it. it's not because her selection is poor, he thinks his entire being is slowly coming back from having officially signed off for good. he doesn't know what it's like to die and come back, as the only people who've ever died to return were jean, cyclops, charles ... and neither of them had been resurrected quite like him. ]

[ glancing at her over his shoulder, he then looks above her to the door. her stomach rumbling isn't a loud noise, but if he focuses on it, maybe it can be one that will eventually slow her down. she's moving too quickly for him to keep up; where he's meant to be the one looking out for her, it's the other way around, and he's pretty sure that's not how it's supposed to be. ]

Go eat. [ he looks back at the mirror, seeing all that broken flesh that's not quite stitching itself back together. he knows internally his mutation is busy at work, but externally he looks like a reason for someone to worry themselves sick. it's never taken this long to bounce back into peak condition, even when his mutation was no longer keeping the adamantium poisoning under control. ] I'll come out when I'm done here.

[coercive]

[She opens her mouth to argue, but really doesn't have it in her. He's trying, and she can tell that, and so she lets him have his time that he's asking for. Her hand briefly touches at his as she pulls away, heading out of the bathroom to go eat.

Whenever he does emerge, she's got the tv on and she's pulled the small table and a chair up right in front of it. She's watching cartoons, and is wearing an almost smile on her face as she watches them while eating. A burger is one hand, a couple of chicken strips are sitting on a napkin that's resting on her lap, and her other hand is slowly putting french fries into her mouth.

Despite the noise of the tv, she hears him before he ever opens the door.While normally she might glance back at him, she doesn't pry her eyes off of the cartoon. She's almost afraid to look at him, to see a clean shirt soaked through with blood because he still isn't healing.]

Things are better now?

[She hopes that he's at least able to walk a little better. If not, at least he has a comfortable place to collapse.]

[regenerative]

[ he doesn't pull all the bullets out, but what he manages to extract is more than enough in his books. he stays in the bathroom for a lot longer than he needs to be, fingers gripping the edge of the basin. waiting for that inevitable stitching of skin to patch himself together, he knows he's going to be in the bathroom for a long, long time if his intent is to wait until he's brand new before leaving. ]

[ when he hears the television turn on, he figures he can't hide in the bathroom forever. he pulls one of the shirts she's brought back for him on, ignoring the sting and awful twist of his skin, and finds that the colour does nothing for him at all. although, it wouldn't compliment him regardless. logan's the type of guy to wear leather, plaid, and then a wife beater if nothing else suits. wearing a dark blue is more cyclops' style. ]

[ steps tentative when he leaves the bathroom, it's still obvious that he hasn't quite healed. there's a slight limp, like he's trying to press his weight to somewhere other than his own body. when he sits on the bed's edge, it's slow. ]

Getting there. [ slowly — incredibly slowly for the incredibly impatient, like him. he looks at the television screen, eyes narrowing somewhat as he tries to guess what the hell it is she's occupying herself with. he needs his glasses, or something to make the world appear sharper. looking at her, he adds, ] I'll be okay. [ he cocks his head to the food in her hand, ] You get one of those stupid toys?

[coercive]

[She can smell that he hasn't healed, but does them both a favor and acts ignorant to the fact. His question makes her point over at the bed, where she's set a plastic Hot Wheels car that came as her prize. She's not necessarily interested in it beyond spinning the wheels and listening to the sound it makes as she rolls it over various surfaces, but it's nice to have something other than just a ball to entertain herself with.]

You can not have it.

[She says like he might actually want it, and hops up from where she's sitting. Her agility makes it easy to make sure the food doesn't go everywhere, and it's set aside on the table. Looking him over, she gives a curt nod of approval. The color is good to hide things as best as possible. Leaving the cartoons on the Looney Tunes that's playing on late night tv, she takes her toy car and heads into the bathroom.

Unlike him, she hurries through her time getting clean. Being undressed and standing in water makes her feel vulnerable and on edge, so she washes and scrubs and hurries to get out and get dressed in something new. When she puts on the rainbow stripe pajamas, she stares in the mirror. She looks just like any other kid now, and she's fascinated by the bright colors she's getting to wear. Fingers are raked through her wet hair to act as a comb, and then she's slipping out of the bathroom.

Holding onto her toy car, she rolls the wheels with her fingers before moving it along the wall, listening closely to the sound it makes. She's a little unnerved staying here like this, acting like any other father and daughter might (assuming any other father and daughter duo spend most of their time together covered in blood and fighting to survive).

Not having her shoes on makes her feel on edge. She's not ready to run this way, and the feel of the dirty old carpet on the bottom of her feet and pressing against her toes makes the hair on the back of her neck stand on edge. Pushing through that uncomfortable feeling, she creeps over toward him.]

We need a plan.

[Even if it's just something as simple as : get the hell out of here at dawn and drive all day, it will help her feel more at ease. For a kid that's spent the past chunk of time running away from the people who thought she had been born to them meant she was supposed to die at their command, she was used to planning and having to figure out the best course of survival. Gabriela had done the best she could planning and trying to get her to her father for safety, but it was Laura who used her advanced senses to guide them as best as an eleven year old could.]

[regenerative]

[ when she leaves to go to the bathroom, logan doesn't move from where he is on the edge of the bed. partly it's due to how painful it is, every bit of him stinging and burning from how his muscles still feel like they're not used to moving. another is he doesn't want to lie in the bed and sleep like an old man. no one's coming for them, as far as he knows, but he's never been one to turn much of a blind eye and deaf ear on anything. ]

[ he doesn't watch her as she reenters the room, silly toy in hand. keeping his focus on the cartoons, he only looks at her when she's closer toward him. it's now his turn to step up, regardless of how exhausted he may feel at the mere thought of trying to pull together a list of steps to action right now and in the morning. he never gave up on xavier, caliban never gave up on him, and he knows laura never did, either. ]

[ it takes him a long moment to even speak, hands in his lap as he looks at the television without focusing on the graphics in front of him. the sound drowns out as he thinks it over, realising that what he intends to propose may not be their best solution, but it's the only one they have for now. ]

I might know someone. [ he sits a little straighter, ignoring the pain that sparks through him. if he says it aloud, he's committing to it. does he derive a sense of purpose in helping laura? he'll openly admit that he does now. he wants to get her to her friends, but perhaps he needs to get her friends and herself another ally firstly. ] I don't know if he'll help us. Last I heard, he was still kicking, but that might have changed since then. [ he looks at her to gauge her reaction, the level of impatience she may feel. ] It's going to be a long drive.

[coercive]

[Her eyebrows raise upward and she gives him a look that seems to ask Someone? It strikes her as funny somehow that the dynamic between them has shifted somewhat, to where he goes from trying to tell her what to do to asking her permission to go on a long car ride.]

Then you will have time to rest.

[The corner of her mouth curves upward, smugly asserting her role as driver for a good chunk of the trip. She has no actual idea where they're headed, but figures he can give her directions as needed. Or at least point it out to her on a map.

Sitting next to him on the bed, her hand that isn't holding her silly toy car reaches out to rest on top of his.]

Who is the someone? He is...like us?

[The idea of being cooped up in a car all day, for possible days in a row isn't appealing to her. But she understands the necessity of it, and is more than willing to put her need to move around on hold so they can get the help they need to stay safe.]

[regenerative]

[ it'll always earn her a reaction whenever she places her hand on top of his. his gaze moves from the television to rest on where her hand is on top of his, before he settles. she's a lot kinder than he's ever been, when he was young, when he was older, even now with all that life experience and heartache under his belt. the people who reach out to try and touch him are long gone, but he supposes that's all changed with laura hanging around like a bad smell and a little version of himself. ]

[ he doesn't want to give her too much information, just in case it gets her hopes up. but logan knows she needs to be able to trust where they're going, or else she'll overtake him, believing she knows what's best when neither of them seem to know anything at all. ]

He's a mutant. [ he's like them, in terms of being a survivor. but he's not like them when it comes to what they are — animals, with claws, agility, and a need to either flee from the pack or find them once again. ] He's not like you and me. He can't heal, and he doesn't have claws. But he's survived long enough that he'll help us.

[coercive]

[No healing, no claws. But he's a mutant, which means he's slightly more trustworthy than someone else. He's a survivor, which makes Laura give a little nod of her head. If he trusts whoever this man is, then Laura will reluctantly agree to at least seek him out.]

We leave when you can walk.

[He can argue and say that he can walk just fine now, but they both know that's a lie, and she doubts either of them are in the mood for bickering over whether or not he can.

She still has half a mind to overtake him later on, and just do what feels right to her instincts. Everything inside her is screaming to protect and keep him alive, but just because she has a hard time trusting others doesn't mean that she's right.

She moves to stand up, so she can go over and fidget with the tv and change the channel to something that isn't cartoons. Without looking back at him she asks,]

The mutant we are going to find. What is his name?

[regenerative]

[ he's glad she's not looking at him right now. he watches her back, as though her hair will be able to tell him something her face won't. he suspects she must be feeling disappointment, either at not being with her friends right now or with him slowing them both down as he had done so before. but he can't push his ability to move any faster, to heal itself at lightning quick speed. ]

[ he can't even give her a confident, concrete solution to their problem, either. it's the disappointment etched in his face that he doesn't want to see reflected in hers. ]

[ he watches her for a moment before he thinks to answer. it's not out of distrust and not wanting to share that he even hesitates, but he doesn't want to commit to something that may no longer be viable. eden hadn't been a concept he believed in, not like she had with her entire being; unlike that safe place, logan doesn't have faith in their next plan of action. but it's all he can come up with when he doesn't have charles or caliban to turn to. ]

You know him as Magneto.

[coercive]

[She looks at him through his reflection that shows up on the tv while she's flipping through channels. There's an old monster movie on one of the channels and she leaves it there; the grainy quality of the image reminds her of the western she had watched with Charles.]

You trust him?

[She knows that name, she's seen him in the comics Gabriela gave to her. She knows what he's capable of. But she also knows what her father is capable of, and that he wouldn't be seeking out a man like Magneto if they weren't out of other resources.

Turning away from the tv, she finally looks at him. If he's worried about disappointment or resentment being show on his face, he might be surprised to see a little warmth there.
It's subtle, and more in her eyes than anything, but the idea of two people filled with metal that can be controlled and used against them visiting a man like Magneto is near comical. Her asking if he trusts the guy is even more so.

He's done so much in only a day or so. Came back to save her, helped her rescue her friends, and died to make sure she was free. Even now, when he's barely able to function,
he's trying. All that matters to her now is that they stay together, and find a way to see her friends again.]