A reunion.
Laura stripped off her uniform top and let it drop to the tile floor, the fabric a wet, sticky mess of blood stains and tears that could barely be called a shirt anymore. After the battle with the would-be goddess, Laura actually felt a little...tired. Almost sore, even. Apparently getting punched by a deity was a bit much even for her healing factor. She pressed her fingers into the bare skin of her shoulder, feeling the muscles beneath shift and change, and then turned to consider herself in the mirror.
She was still covered in the paint that had allowed them to fight a goddess, some native american magic and spirituality she wasn't entirely certain she believed in. She believe it worked but that wasn't the same as believing it was...what she had been told it was. She pressed her hand into the stripe on her face and felt the paint shift slightly under her finger, surprised it had stayed through the blood and sweat of the fighting. Surprised and a little frustrated, since she wanted it gone and it was probably going to be a hassle to get off.
X-force had stopped at a fairly upscale hotel on the way back to the X-men base, after Domino had begun complaining that if she didn't get a shower she was going to start shooting people, and even if she was probably joking, Wolverine had given in to the demand. Laura wasn't particularly invested either way, but some small part of her thought it was probably a good idea to get the paint off before they got home and saw Julian or the others. Wolverine had planned on making Laura and Domino share a room, but the other mutant had promptly pulled a wad of money from somewhere in her skin tight uniform, so Laura had one entirely to herself.
She frowned at herself in the mirror for a moment, considering her bare torso. Any normal person would've been covered in bruises but her slightly dark skin looked perfectly smooth and normal as ever. In a way it was almost a shame, really...she would never carry the marks of her fighting the way other people did. Not that she was invested in trophies, but the thought...occasionally popped into her head.
Even if she knew without her healing factor she'd have been dead a hundred times over by now. Which was probably a record at seventeen.
She finally turned away from the mirror, reaching into the large bathroom's shower to turn the water on and set it all the way to hot, and then sitting down to unlace her boots and push them into the corner. She slipped out of the rest of her torn uniform as the steam began to follow the room, and then tugged a washcloth off the hotel rack and stepped into the shower, intent on removing as much of the paint as soap and water would allow.
She was still covered in the paint that had allowed them to fight a goddess, some native american magic and spirituality she wasn't entirely certain she believed in. She believe it worked but that wasn't the same as believing it was...what she had been told it was. She pressed her hand into the stripe on her face and felt the paint shift slightly under her finger, surprised it had stayed through the blood and sweat of the fighting. Surprised and a little frustrated, since she wanted it gone and it was probably going to be a hassle to get off.
X-force had stopped at a fairly upscale hotel on the way back to the X-men base, after Domino had begun complaining that if she didn't get a shower she was going to start shooting people, and even if she was probably joking, Wolverine had given in to the demand. Laura wasn't particularly invested either way, but some small part of her thought it was probably a good idea to get the paint off before they got home and saw Julian or the others. Wolverine had planned on making Laura and Domino share a room, but the other mutant had promptly pulled a wad of money from somewhere in her skin tight uniform, so Laura had one entirely to herself.
She frowned at herself in the mirror for a moment, considering her bare torso. Any normal person would've been covered in bruises but her slightly dark skin looked perfectly smooth and normal as ever. In a way it was almost a shame, really...she would never carry the marks of her fighting the way other people did. Not that she was invested in trophies, but the thought...occasionally popped into her head.
Even if she knew without her healing factor she'd have been dead a hundred times over by now. Which was probably a record at seventeen.
She finally turned away from the mirror, reaching into the large bathroom's shower to turn the water on and set it all the way to hot, and then sitting down to unlace her boots and push them into the corner. She slipped out of the rest of her torn uniform as the steam began to follow the room, and then tugged a washcloth off the hotel rack and stepped into the shower, intent on removing as much of the paint as soap and water would allow.