I smile briefly and disappear into the shower. Peeling off my clothes, I stand in front of the mirror, looking over my bruises and cuts. Lindsey... the bastard could get creative. And there are plenty of unseen pains, under my skin.
If only I could get my hands on him.
Kicking my clothes aside, and not caring that the floor is pretty dirty, because honestly I can never wear them again, I turn on the shower and hold my hand under the water. At first it's ice cold, and I shiver, but slowly the pipes clang and the stream heats up. Once it's sufficiently, boil-your-skin hot, I climb into the shower, drawing the curtain. Once inside, under that blissfully scorching water, I lean my forehead against the shower wall, close my eyes and let the water sluice off of my body.
I don't realize how long it's been until I hear a knock on the door. My heart starts hammering in my chest, but slows once I hear Logan's voice. I open my eyes and can hardly see through the steam in the tiny bathroom.
"Yeah," I call out. "Fine. I'll be out in a flash."
Quickly, I wash my hair with some shampoo I find on the shelf, and scrub my skin until it's practically raw with soap. It smells like Logan and it makes me smile, for some reason. It's comforting.
Shutting off the water, I wrap a towel around me and step out of the shower. Drying myself off, I watch my reflection in the mirror. I'm not the same girl that looked at herself in the mirror last time. Everything that happens, changes me in some way. I wonder if this happens to Logan, too. Every fight, every run-in... every death.
Holding the towel tightly around me, I stick my head out of the bathroom and scan the small bedroom, spotting Logan over by the bed.
"Hey. Hand me the clothes? I'm paying you back, I swear."
Rogue comes out of the bathroom, a small figure swallowed up by my towel, and my skips a beat. Really. She's more covered up than when she was in the shorts and t-shirt, but this makes my breath catch. S'pose it's knowing how easy it is to unwrap a towel... Which is a bad thought.
"Hey. Hand me the clothes? I'm paying you back, I swear."
"You bet you are," I say, because being all chivalric about it would... send the wrong message. I pass her the bundle. "Probably not too fashionable. Didn't..." I cough. "Didn't get you any personals. Not exactly my forte, buyin' underwear." Not like I'd really had the kind of girlfriend I'd bought panties for. Had the kind you rip them off, but... And that thought could lead to nowhere good.
I turn around so Rogue can get changed, and when I look back I'm relieved. It's safer, having her dressed.
"Got chicken," I said, pointing at the bucket. "Not exactly home cooking, but..." I shrug and open the box, taking a leg out. "Tastes ok." I bite down and pass the bucket over to her with my free hand.
I smile as he passes me the clothes and wait for him to turn. I guess I could've gone back to the bathroom. Don't know why I didn't. Well, I do, but it's easier to dance around and avoid than to acknowledge. Haven't I got enough things going all sideways in my life already?
The clothes fit, surprisingly, which means that Logan knows my body better than I thought. That thought makes me blush. The jeans are a little long, and the shirt is plain, dark, long-sleeved, but it fits well, and I appreciate the effort.
"Don't worry about it," I say, turning around and smiling again. "I'll get some myself, later. I know, it's all... weird." Shrugging, I go over to the bed and sit on the edge, cross-legged, and reach for the bucket. The chicken is greasy and not quite as hot anymore and it smells delicious. I bite into it and it's the best thing I've ever tasted. I chew, swallow, bite, chew, repeat.
"It's great," I manage between bites. It's kind of embarassing, but I didn't even realize how hungry I was. "I mean it. Really. Thanks."
I watch Rogue tear into the food with a small degree of amusement.
"I mean it. Really. Thanks."
"A $10 bucket of chicken, you're a cheap date," I joke, then wonder if that's inappropriate, then wonder when the hell I got so worried about what I shoot my mouth off about. I eat some fries to cover my confusion. "Just don't make yourself sick. I'm guessing it's been a while since you ate, so you don't want to end up throwing up." Grown up duty now over, I relax and just watch Rogue plough back into the food. Girl certainly has a healthy appetite. One thing I've always noticed in women is the way they approach food. Women who pick like birds at salads aren't the kind of women I pick up. When I fancied a hard, rough lay, I'd look for a woman who'd ordered a double cheeseburger and then had dessert. A woman who eats with relish does other stuff with enthusiasm too, or at least that's what I've found.
I glance over at Rogue's slim form and wonder if her appetite for food is matched by her hunger for other things. And again I have the mental image of her gloved hand resting against my bare chest. I feel my heart rate speed up and I look away. That's not why I'm here. I'm here to look out for her and to make sure she doesn't get herself killed, not to be some pervert leching over a schoolgirl.
"If you're tired, don't feel you have to be polite and stay awake," I say. "Bed isn't too comfy, but it's got to be better than that thing Lindsey had you tied to." Lindsey. Lucky for him he's dead or I'd have ripped his head off myself.
I smile briefly and disappear into the shower. Peeling off my clothes, I stand in front of the mirror, looking over my bruises and cuts. Lindsey... the bastard could get creative. And there are plenty of unseen pains, under my skin.
If only I could get my hands on him.
Kicking my clothes aside, and not caring that the floor is pretty dirty, because honestly I can never wear them again, I turn on the shower and hold my hand under the water. At first it's ice cold, and I shiver, but slowly the pipes clang and the stream heats up. Once it's sufficiently, boil-your-skin hot, I climb into the shower, drawing the curtain. Once inside, under that blissfully scorching water, I lean my forehead against the shower wall, close my eyes and let the water sluice off of my body.
I don't realize how long it's been until I hear a knock on the door. My heart starts hammering in my chest, but slows once I hear Logan's voice. I open my eyes and can hardly see through the steam in the tiny bathroom.
"Yeah," I call out. "Fine. I'll be out in a flash."
Quickly, I wash my hair with some shampoo I find on the shelf, and scrub my skin until it's practically raw with soap. It smells like Logan and it makes me smile, for some reason. It's comforting.
Shutting off the water, I wrap a towel around me and step out of the shower. Drying myself off, I watch my reflection in the mirror. I'm not the same girl that looked at herself in the mirror last time. Everything that happens, changes me in some way. I wonder if this happens to Logan, too. Every fight, every run-in... every death.
Holding the towel tightly around me, I stick my head out of the bathroom and scan the small bedroom, spotting Logan over by the bed.
"Hey. Hand me the clothes? I'm paying you back, I swear."
Reply
"Hey. Hand me the clothes? I'm paying you back, I swear."
"You bet you are," I say, because being all chivalric about it would... send the wrong message. I pass her the bundle. "Probably not too fashionable. Didn't..." I cough. "Didn't get you any personals. Not exactly my forte, buyin' underwear." Not like I'd really had the kind of girlfriend I'd bought panties for. Had the kind you rip them off, but... And that thought could lead to nowhere good.
I turn around so Rogue can get changed, and when I look back I'm relieved. It's safer, having her dressed.
"Got chicken," I said, pointing at the bucket. "Not exactly home cooking, but..." I shrug and open the box, taking a leg out. "Tastes ok." I bite down and pass the bucket over to her with my free hand.
Reply
The clothes fit, surprisingly, which means that Logan knows my body better than I thought. That thought makes me blush. The jeans are a little long, and the shirt is plain, dark, long-sleeved, but it fits well, and I appreciate the effort.
"Don't worry about it," I say, turning around and smiling again. "I'll get some myself, later. I know, it's all... weird." Shrugging, I go over to the bed and sit on the edge, cross-legged, and reach for the bucket. The chicken is greasy and not quite as hot anymore and it smells delicious. I bite into it and it's the best thing I've ever tasted. I chew, swallow, bite, chew, repeat.
"It's great," I manage between bites. It's kind of embarassing, but I didn't even realize how hungry I was. "I mean it. Really. Thanks."
Reply
"I mean it. Really. Thanks."
"A $10 bucket of chicken, you're a cheap date," I joke, then wonder if that's inappropriate, then wonder when the hell I got so worried about what I shoot my mouth off about. I eat some fries to cover my confusion. "Just don't make yourself sick. I'm guessing it's been a while since you ate, so you don't want to end up throwing up." Grown up duty now over, I relax and just watch Rogue plough back into the food. Girl certainly has a healthy appetite. One thing I've always noticed in women is the way they approach food. Women who pick like birds at salads aren't the kind of women I pick up. When I fancied a hard, rough lay, I'd look for a woman who'd ordered a double cheeseburger and then had dessert. A woman who eats with relish does other stuff with enthusiasm too, or at least that's what I've found.
I glance over at Rogue's slim form and wonder if her appetite for food is matched by her hunger for other things. And again I have the mental image of her gloved hand resting against my bare chest. I feel my heart rate speed up and I look away. That's not why I'm here. I'm here to look out for her and to make sure she doesn't get herself killed, not to be some pervert leching over a schoolgirl.
"If you're tired, don't feel you have to be polite and stay awake," I say. "Bed isn't too comfy, but it's got to be better than that thing Lindsey had you tied to." Lindsey. Lucky for him he's dead or I'd have ripped his head off myself.
Reply
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