*Radio 5. John Wraith 0.* OTA

[hunt_the_devil]

*John had broken yet another radio. It was the fifth one this week and currently he was sat outside his tent with the radio in pieces across the floor, joined by a huge mug of coffee which currently sat steaming away and untouched. Currently John was trying to put a tiny fiddle piece of radio back into its rightful place but his pudgy fingers were

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[45825243_t78_a]

*Logan couldn't help but stare a little as he came out of his tent, intending to go find a quiet place somewhere. Sure, he'd seen John in his new, supersized version before, but it was difficult to get used to it. Not being able to smell him was probably what did it; now that John neither looked nor smelled like he'd used to, he might almost be someone else entirely. Even Logan wasn't paranoid enough to think Stryker would replace people by alternates (and, hell, if he had, would he really have picked that for John?), but that was about how familiar he felt. Logan didn't know this John, and it bothered him. Small altercations aside, he actually liked John, and was, in his own way, grateful for the peacekeeping influence John had around camp. That was why Logan decided to talk to him. He needed to get used to the new John, and reassure himself that the man's stabilizing influence was still there. There had to be something he could still count on, now that everything in camp was jumbled.*

Hey.

[hunt_the_devil]

*Having given up on the radio (for now) John looked up and smiled, his chubby cheeks giving him the appearance of a hamster for a moment.

Patting the log bench John shifted up, thankful that it was large enough for at least two super-sized versions of himself to sit on before it got a little cramped. John was pleased to see Logan, a friendly face amongst a sea of new and often barely concealed disgust. He didn't blame the others for being so shocked by his size and boy did John now know what Fred went through on a daily basis.
What he needed lately was that reminder of what had been before, the stability of a level headed individual like Logan, who would look beyond the weight and see the same man he had always been... or so he hoped.*

Hey Logan, how you been?

[45825243_t78_a]

*Logan sat down next to John. Already he felt a bit more comfortable around him; just watching John's movements (even if they were currenly hampered by the blubber somewhat) made him look more familiar.*

Feel like I got my head in a goddamn goldfish bowl.

*Well, there was little use pretending everything was hunky-dory, was there? Practically everyone in camp was miserable. Logan shrugged, glancing at the ground in front of him before looking at John again. Of course, some had it worse than others. Much as Logan hated being a living light show (in theory, anyway; he hadn't tried to produce light yet, and he wasn't planning to), he didn't envy John at all.*

You?

[hunt_the_devil]

*Chuckling lightly John nodded, he got the feeling Logan felt as out of place as he did in this new body... well old body but super super sized.*

I reckon I'm gettin' used to havin' this bulk added onto my frame though I don't think the budget will appreciate a sudden influx in radio orders. Guess it's given me a better sense of what poor Fred used to have to go through. Apart from that though I'm doin' alright.

How's your leg?

*He remembered that Logan had managed to kick the table one or two times during their meeting, obviously not having an instant healing ability meant that every bump, scrape and accident left a slight bruise.*

[45825243_t78_a]

It's bruised.

*Logan was actually vaguely amused, now that the pain had subsided. The last time a bruise'd had time to show up on his body was... God... That time with the cannonball? He thought that was it. It was pretty surreal that something as stupid as hitting your leg against a table could have the same effect.*

Radios? *Logan didn't see how having a supersized body necessitated ordering more radios.* You can't be that hungry.

[hunt_the_devil]

I ain't eatin' them Logan! I keep sittin' on the wretched bloody things. I swear they're out to get me! I tried repairin' the fifth one I've sat on this week but I reckon again I'm gonna have to ask for a new one... Stryker will start thinkin' I'm eatin' them though at this rate.

*John laughed and slapped Logan on the back forgetting his own strength and the fact that the poor guy would probably feel it. He grinned sheepishly as he realised what he had done*

[45825243_t78_a]

You sit on them?

*OK, Logan was amused. He'd always found Fred's shape pretty amusing - his jokes at Fred's expense were rarely intended to be personal, though no one else seemed to distinguish between the man and his body - and it was no different now that John was the supersized one.

The slap on his back caught Logan by surprise, and he almost fell forward. Dammit, that hurt. It was like he could still feel the imprint of John's hand on his back. In fact, it wouldn't have surprised Logan if there was a fiery hand burning on his back, right between his shoulders.*

I may not be a goddamn radio, John, but do me a favor. Don't sit on me.