To their surprise, the cabin was partially furnished, but it was a bit of a mess. When Rogue smacked the back of the plump sofa to try and clean some of the dust off, a thick cloud of it rose up into the air and took several minutes to settle again.
“First thing we need is a really good vacuum cleaner with an upholstery attachment,” she said wryly.
They walked through the rest of the cabin, admiring the hardwood floors and the raw wood planking of the walls. While inspecting the bathrooms, Rogue was secretly relieved to find that they were decorated in none of the garish color schemes she had been imagining since Mr. Burroughs had told them the place hadn’t been updated for over twenty years. She clearly remembered the powder blue sink and toilet in the upstairs bathroom of her parents’ house and her mother’s constant griping about ‘70s and ‘80s decorating.
The rooms were somewhat small, but the spacious living room with the vaulted ceiling and large windows made up for it in Rogue’s opinion. In the middle of one wall of the living room was a stone fireplace. Logan immediately got down on his hands and knees in front of it and peered up the chimney.
“Looks a bit clogged,” he grunted. “I’ll get up on the roof and start cleanin’ it out tomorrow. Assumin’ there’s a ladder somewhere.”
Rogue shivered suddenly. “Isn’t it gonna be a bit cold tonight?”
“Place has gas heat,” he mused, having read through the file quickly.
“Yeah, but is it on?”
“Electricity is,” Logan returned. “I can’t imagine Chuck wouldn’t have thought to have it taken care of.”
“Ah’m not so sure ‘bout that. After all, we didn’t even think to ask Mr. Burroughs ‘bout it, did we?”
“So call the man and find out, darlin’.”
“Mr. Burroughs or the professor?” Rogue asked smartly.
“Pick one,” Logan smirked. Rogue chuckled and took the cell phone from him.
“Rogue?” Xavier answered after the first ring.
“Charles,” she greeted, wincing a little when she felt Magneto influencing her speech. Can’t ya do somethin’ ‘bout that? she tried asking the voice she had been hearing.
Gladly, came the immediate reply, and Magneto’s presence was suddenly gone.
“Rogue?” the professor questioned again. “Who was that?”
“Ah…nobody, professor. Just me an’ the voices in mah head.”
“Hmm,” Xavier acknowledged tactfully. “Well, are you and Logan settled in then?”
“Not quite. We were wonderin’ ‘bout some o’ the details with the electricity an’ heat an’ whatnot, but we didn’t think to ask Mr. Burroughs.”
“All taken care of, my dear. Mr. Burroughs promised to send somebody out yesterday. You should even have plenty of hot water by now.”
Rogue relayed the news to Logan. He grunted and gestured for the phone.
“Darlin’, why don’t you go open the taps and let ‘em run for a few minutes? There’s gonna be debris sittin’ in the pipes.” At Rogue’s nod, he put the phone to his ear. “Hey, Chuck. So what’s the current news?”
Xavier sighed. “Things are very quickly getting worse, Logan. The president called me this morning.”
“Why?”
“To apologize. By now he’s aware of the fallout from the interview. I must admit that it’s somewhat disconcerting to have someone of his stature set aside time just to offer us his condolences. He has also offered you and Rogue whatever help he can. Although it will, of course, be handled unofficially and for only as long as he remains in office.”
Logan snorted. “Yeah, well. We knew that we might have to run. Just didn’t think Monique would get her grubby little mitts into the situation quite so fast. Everythin’ okay at the school, though? No trouble there since we left?”
“No,” the professor assured. “Monique seems to believe what Rogue said during the interview.” He hesitated for a moment. “Todd called and asked for Rogue this morning, though.”
Logan growled. “Think Monique put him up to it?”
“No,” Xavier mused, “I don’t think so. The young man sounded genuinely concerned for Rogue’s well-being.” He chuckled suddenly. “He was quite put out when I told him that I couldn’t tell him where she went.”
Hearing the upstairs faucets being turned on, Logan deemed it safe to turn the conversation to another topic. “Hey, listen, Chuck. I need you to ask Hank ‘bout somethin’ for me. Ask him what might make someone’s eyes change color.”
“Did that happen with Rogue?” The professor’s voice sounded suddenly alert.
“No.”
“With you?” he asked slowly. “When did this happen and what were you doing when it did?”
Logan cleared his throat. “Just tell him that Wolverine and I have started sharin’ the same space in my head. We noticed the difference in our eye color a couple hours after that.”
“Do you feel any different? Have less control over yourself or anything like that?”
“No. Well, yeah, I feel a little different. I’m used to Wolverine bein’ shoved to the back o’ my brain most o’ the time. The only real difference I’ve noticed is that my senses are a little sharper than normal. Other than that,” Logan shrugged, “nothin’.”
“All right. I’ll have Hank look into it. Any changes with Rogue?”
“She’s talkin’ to the voice more often,” Logan admitted quietly. “She hasn’t told me, but I’ve noticed.”
“Do you think it’s influencing her in any way?” Xavier asked sharply.
“Hard to tell,” Logan grunted. “I think she’s been considerin’ the things it’s been tellin’ her, and maybe she’s been makin’ some decisions based on that.”
“No serious behavioral changes, though?”
Logan cleared his throat again, considering the changes the last couple days in his relationship with Rogue. “No, no harmful behavioral changes.”
“Logan.” The professor’s voice was suddenly stern.
“Look, Chuck,” he ground out, “a few things have changed between Rogue and me, but nothin’ seems to have happened too fast or without reason. And I’m not sayin’ any more than that.”
“Very well,” the professor sighed. “Perhaps you might be more forthcoming if you discussed the situation with Hank?”
“Maybe. If there’s anythin’ worth discussin’ with him, I’ll let you know.”
“Very well,” Xavier said again, recognizing that he couldn’t push Logan on the matter. He cleared his throat. “You and Rogue are considering my proposal?”
“Yeah, we’re thinkin’ ‘bout it, Chuck. Gonna concentrate on gettin’ the place fixed up for now and kinda just mull it over for a while.”
“Take your time, Logan. I know from experience that it isn’t a decision to be made rashly.” The professor cleared his throat again. “Anyway, I believe I mentioned that Hank is continuing with his research on mutant genetics. He has managed to obtain complete genetic profiles from several families and is currently analyzing the data.”
“That fast?” Logan asked with some surprise.
“Yes. We didn’t think it was wise to waste time given the current situation. Plus, we have arranged for whatever we might find out, should it be worthy of publication, to be handled at an independent lab. Hank is a known mutant, and we can’t afford for any of his findings to be questioned based solely on that fact.”
“Can you trust the lab?” Logan growled.
“We believe so. The people there are not mutant-friendly, per se, but they have never shown any kind of bias or bigotry in the past. They seem to be men of pure, rational science.”
Logan growled. “Yeah, well. I’ve met a few doctors who considered themselves men of ‘pure, rational science.’”
There was a moment of silence. “Yes, of course,” the professor murmured finally. “We’ll be careful, Logan. And we’ll keep you updated. The first chance you get, please head into town and set up a post office box. I do apologize for the inconvenience, but I’m afraid there is no regular mail delivery out your way.”
Snorting a laugh, Logan replied, “Suits me just fine. Can’t say as I like the idea of anybody stoppin’ by regularly anyway, even if it is just to drop off a few envelopes.”
Xavier chuckled. “I’ve already sent you and Rogue a package, care of the general post in Twin Pines. Unfortunately, this is the only time I will be able to do that. New postal regulations will be put into effect next week. All packages leaving the United States must be properly addressed to a receiving individual and they must be signed for at pick-up. And it seems that no package of any sort may be sent to a post office box. Only residential or business addresses will be allowed in future.”
Logan gave a low whistle. “I’m guessin’ one of the new regulations also allows for random package inspections?”
“Quite right.”
“What ‘bout sendin’ stuff by private courier?”
“It will no longer be allowed internationally, and all domestic courier services must register each package with their local police station where they will be assigned a tracking ID chip that guarantees delivery at the specified address at the specified time.”
Logan gave another whistle. “What exactly do they think people might be sendin’ that’s so dangerous?”
“I believe there is a dual concern. One, mutant-generated biological threats – poisonous secretions, quills, etc. – and two, there seems to be a black market version of the cure circulating.”
“But the cure doesn’t work,” Logan said with a frown.
“The original is not permanent, no, and it doesn’t appear to have any effect on mutants already exposed to it. But this new version seems to be lasting much longer, albeit with some incredibly dangerous side-effects. Including some deaths,” Xavier finished softly.
“I would think that would make some people happy,” Logan said harshly, “mutants willingly injectin’ themselves with somethin’ that might kill them.”
“If it were only mutants taking it, perhaps.”
A horrible numbing sensation crept up Logan’s spine. “What are you sayin’, Chuck? Why would humans take a mutant cure?”
Xavier swallowed rapidly several times, loud enough for Logan to hear. “The deaths have primarily been human children who feared that they might be mutants. They injected themselves to keep any potential mutation from manifesting.”
“How the hell did it come to that?” Logan roared. He heard Rogue’s faint call from upstairs followed by the sound of her feet pounding down the stairs. “And so fast?” He was bewildered at the news, wondering if the interview had been in any way responsible for the turn of events.
“Logan, no,” Xavier said firmly, picking up the thought. “Things have been heading in this direction long before that. It’s just that now, with anti-mutant sentiment running so high, things are rapidly coming to a head.”
Logan hung his head. “And the possibility of the MRA bein’ passed isn’t helpin’.” He felt Rogue moving up behind him, felt the hesitant touch on his arm.
“Logan?” she asked in a quiet, worried voice. He turned toward her and looped his free arm around her waist. Pulling her tight against his side, he rested his chin on top of her head and sighed heavily. Strands of her hair, all a uniform shade now, stirred briefly. Rogue wrapped her arms around his waist and lightly rubbed his lower back.
“What ‘bout the kids at the school?” he asked. “Any o’ them gettin’ mixed up in this?”
“No, nobody here. I think, and you should really tell her this since it might set her mind at ease, that Rogue’s experience with the cure seems to be an example to the students. Please understand that it is not something that the staff and I discuss with the students, but they do talk amongst themselves, Logan. I think that years from now, when the students from that time are no longer here, it will still be talked about.”
“Yeah, if the school even has years left to it,” Logan muttered, squeezing Rogue gently.
“We’re doing our best to make sure it does,” Xavier reminded him.
“Yeah.” Logan sighed again. “Listen, Chuck, Rogue and I need to talk ‘bout some stuff. We’ll give you a call when we pick up that package.”
“All right,” Xavier acknowledged. “Should something pressing come up either in the political arena or with Hank’s research, we’ll let you know.”
Logan ended the call without another word and slipped the phone into his back pocket.
“What’s the matter, sugar?” Rogue murmured, her voice muffled by his shoulder.
“Some idiot kids gettin’ themselves in trouble with a black market mutant cure.”
Rogue stilled for a moment. She took a deep breath and then her hands went back to their soothing rubs along his back. “It’s bad?”
“Yeah. Kids at Xavier’s are all right, though. Chuck thought I should tell you that your run-in with the cure has kinda tempered the students’ curiosity ‘bout it.”
“Good,” Rogue said firmly. “The original cure wasn’t a cure at all, and I can’t imagine that this new one is any better.”
“It’s not,” Logan admitted quietly. “It’s killed some o’ the kids. Chuck said somethin’ ‘bout human kids takin’ it on the off chance that they might be mutants.”
Rogue’s fingers dug into his back suddenly. “They’re gonna use that.”
“Huh?”
“Scientists, politicians. Whoever. They’re gonna use the deaths as a reason for genetic screenin’ and mutant registration. ‘The deaths of children can be prevented with only a simple blood test to determine whether they carry the mutant gene.’”
Logan swore low and vilely. “You’re right. Shit, you’re right.”
“An’ once they’re exposed as mutants, since the cure doesn’t work anyway, what’s gonna happen to ‘em, Logan?”
He sighed again. “They’re gonna need safe places to go. Like Xavier’s. Like here?”
Rogue nodded.
“Guess we made that decision faster than we planned, huh?” Logan chuckled darkly.
* * *
They inspected the other buildings early the next morning. Three of them were set up much like dormitories while the third appeared to be a dining hall, complete with ovens and a grill in a long, narrow kitchen running the length of the back wall. There were rough, scarred tables in the dining hall, but the dorms were unfurnished.
Rogue tapped the file folder on her thigh before flipping it open. “It was an orphanage,” she said quietly. “Was only open fer twenty years or so. Looks like the furniture in the dorms was sold at auction.”
“What ‘bout the cabin?” Logan grunted the question as he inspected the ovens and gas lines in the kitchen.
Rogue shuffled some pages. “An older couple was still livin’ there. They lost the fundin’ to keep the orphanage runnin’, but they still owned the land. None o’ the money they got from the government was used on anythin’ in the cabin, so they couldn’t be forced to auction it.”
“Seems like a strange setup,” Logan mused as he straightened from a crouching position.
Rogue shrugged. “The file just gives an outline o’ the property’s history. Don’t know why or how the couple got the place started.”
Logan nodded wordlessly. “Well, come on then, darlin’. Let’s head into town and get some supplies.” He frowned suddenly. “Might have to rent a truck to get stuff back here. Would you be okay drivin’ the Explorer back?”
“Sure, sugar,” Rogue said with surprise. “But wouldn’t it make more sense just to leave it in town an’ we’ll get it when ya bring the truck back?”
“Don’t want to leave it sittin’ out where people might take note o’ the plates.”
Rogue frowned. “What does that matter? Our IDs have a New York address on them anyway.”
A low growl of frustration rumbled up from Logan’s chest. “That’s true. Still, we’re not gonna leave the Explorer anywhere we can’t see it, all right?”
“Ye’re the boss,” Rogue acquiesced and Logan snorted.
“Yeah right.” Rogue responded with a cheeky grin.
* * *
“Sign here,” the bored looking postal clerk said as she slid a clipboard over the counter. Logan scrawled a messy signature, remembering just in time to use the new name from the ID the professor had provided. The clerk didn’t even look at the signature before flipping up a hinged section of the counter and pushing a rolling cart through. The box on the cart was bulky and awkward looking. Logan glanced over at Rogue where she was filling out the paperwork for a post office box.
“I’m gonna need your help gettin’ this into the car, darlin’.”
“‘Kay,” Rogue said without looking up. She put the pen down and slid the paper over the counter to the clerk. Again, the woman didn’t bother looking at what was written and mumbled the yearly fee for the box. Rogue patted her jacket pocket and blinked once in realization as she looked over at Logan. “Ah don’t have any money, sugar.”
Logan just grunted and pulled out his wallet. He dropped the requisite number of bills on the counter and turned away, pushing the cart in front of him. He heard the quick tap of Rogue’s shoes as she hurried to get the door. After a few fumbling moments where neither of them could get a decent grip on the box, they managed to wrestle it into the back of the Explorer.
“What the hell did Chuck send us?” Logan growled as he pushed the cart back to the post office, Rogue once again jogging ahead to open the door for him.
“Dunno, sugar.” She smiled and shrugged, the gesture sending her ponytail bouncing around her shoulders. Logan paused and looked her over. She somehow seemed thinner than she had a few weeks ago, and a bit younger.
Could be ‘cause she’s not wearin’ any makeup, Wolverine interjected curiously.
Maybe, Logan responded quietly, and shook his head at Rogue’s questioning glance. As they finished with the cart, he kept mulling the issue over. He realized that part of Rogue looking younger was, indeed, the lack of makeup and the careless ponytail. The other part of it was the worn jeans, sneakers, and oversized hooded sweatshirt she wore with her colorful gloves – actually worn for warmth instead of protection – and moose earmuffs. Logan grinned suddenly. She looked like a kid for the first time since he had met her. Even the shadows in her eyes seemed faded today.
As they walked down the sidewalk away from the post office, Logan gestured to a diner a block down. “Hungry, darlin’?”
“As a horse!” she exclaimed cheerfully, wheeling around to look at him. She walked backward a few steps while Logan just chuckled and shook his head. Seeing that they were coming to the edge of the sidewalk, Logan lurched forward and grabbed Rogue’s hand to pull her to a stop.
“You’re gonna end up with your butt covered in snow if you don’t watch where you’re goin’,” he warned, jerking his chin toward the curb behind her.
Rogue spun around and continued walking. She paused halfway across the street and called over her shoulder with a wink, “Ya’d dust it off fer me, though, wouldn’t ya?” She twirled around and jogged the last few steps to the diner and disappeared inside.
“What in the world is goin’ on with her?”
Dunno, Wolverine said with interest. It’s kinda surprisin’ given what Chuck told us last night. She looks happy, though. Can count on one hand the number o’ times that’s happened.
Yeah, Logan returned as he crossed the street. And that’s what has me worried. Chuck said to watch out for changes in behavior.
Wolverine growled. You think whatever’s in her head’s messin’ with her?
I don’t know. Worried and intensely unsettled by the possibility, Logan was scowling when he walked into the diner. He scanned the interior quickly, pleased to see that Rogue had chosen a booth in the corner and sat facing the door. Focused as he was on Rogue, he missed the slightly alarmed look from the woman behind the counter as he strode quickly over to the booth.
“Scoot over, kid,” he said with an accompanying gesture. Rogue calmly slid down the seat and leaned her back against the wall, making room for Logan on the outside end. He shrugged out of his leather jacket and tossed it onto the opposite seat before folding his tall frame into the cramped booth. Legs sprawled out in front of him, he observed Rogue as she pulled off her earmuffs and unwound her scarf. She clipped him in the shoulder with her elbow and mumbled an apology. Handing the discarded items to Logan, she started to struggle out of her sweatshirt.
A sudden squeak brought his attention back to Rogue as he was tossing her scarf and earmuffs on top of his jacket. Her face was buried inside the sweatshirt while her right arm was above her head and almost free of its sleeve, but her left elbow was trapped against the side of the table, effectively robbing her of the leverage she needed to free either arm.
“A little help here?” came her muffled voice.
Logan burst out laughing and narrowly avoided the blind kick Rogue sent his way. Still chuckling, he grabbed the lower edge of the sweatshirt and tugged it back into place.
Rogue scowled at him when her face reappeared. “Ah wanted help gettin’ out of it, not back in.”
“I know,” Logan rumbled, smiling at her. “Hands up, darlin’.”
Understanding what he meant, Rogue smiled cheerily and thrust her hands into the air. Logan shook his head in bemusement and once again grabbed the hem of her sweatshirt. In one swift movement, he pulled it up and over her arms and head, turning the shirt inside out in the process. Rogue’s hair briefly crackled with static and she stripped her gloves off quickly to smooth it down. Logan took the gloves from her lap and threw them, along with the sweatshirt, onto the other bench.
They stared at each other for several moments, becoming aware of their surroundings again only when the waitress slapped two laminated menus onto the table in front of them. She pulled two sets of napkin-wrapped silverware out of one pocket of her apron and placed those next to their menus.
We’re idiots, Wolverine growled. We got so distracted that we didn’t even notice her comin’ over to the table. I don’t like it.
I know, Logan acknowledged briefly. That’s never happened before. Think it has somethin’ to do with the new arrangement upstairs? he asked, referring to the newly shared space in his head.
Wolverine snorted. Who the hell knows. I wasn’t front and center while you were sleepin’ last night, though. That’s never happened before either.
Logan frowned, not even listening as the waitress rattled off the breakfast specials.
“So, what can I get ya to drink?”
“Coffee. Black,” Logan said. He glanced at Rogue, who was perusing the back of the menu.
“Ya’ll have chai lattes?” she asked in happy surprise. “Ah’ll have one o’ those. With whipped cream. But only if it’s real whipped cream. Nothin’ from a can or a tub.”
Logan chuckled. “You and your frou-frou drinks.”
Rogue mock-scowled at him and poked him in the ribs. The waitress smiled at their interaction. “Do ya know what ya want, or do ya need a few minutes?” she asked.
“Give us a few,” Logan said, again without looking at her. He was going to have steak and eggs, he knew, but Rogue liked to look at the menu.
Rogue, as expected, spent a few minutes going over her options and Logan remained dutifully silent. After one memorable occasion when Rogue snapped at him for interrupting her, he was always careful to wait until she had made a selection. Glancing up, he saw the waitress heading back to their table with their drinks. At the same time, Rogue closed her menu and set it on top of his.
“Order me a veggie omelet with a side o’ home fries. Ah need to use the ladies’ room.” Logan obligingly stood and offered Rogue his hand so she could more easily slide from the booth. She walked past the waitress without a word. The woman placed their drinks on the table, her eyes trailing after Rogue.
“She seems like a sweet girl,” the woman said brightly.
Logan merely nodded and recited their order to her. Figuring that Rogue would eventually ask for water during their meal, he asked for a couple glasses. Plain for him, with lemon for Rogue.
“Ya know,” the waitress said after carefully writing the order, “it’s nice seein’ the two of ya together.”
Eyebrow raised in surprise, Logan questioned, “It is?” He was far more used to people giving him suspicious looks or disapproving glares when he and Rogue were out together.
“Yeah,” the woman said softly. “My daddy and I never spent any time together.”
“Uh,” Logan began, uncomfortable with the idea of Rogue as his daughter.
“He’s not mah father.” The soft drawl came from a few feet away.
“What?” The waitress paused in the act of putting her order pad in her pocket and looked from him to Rogue.
“Ah said he’s not mah father.”
“Then what is he?” the woman asked bluntly, her eyes suddenly narrowed.
“That’s really not yer business, is it?” Rogue challenged, a hard smile on her lips.
The woman didn’t back down, although she did spare time for a scathing look at Logan. “Maybe not mine, but it might be police business.”
Rogue arched an eyebrow. “Nope, none o’ their business either. An’ Ah don’t appreciate the way ye’re lookin’ at Logan.” Rogue’s voice was loud enough to draw the attention of the other diner patrons.
“Any man who involves himself with young girls deserves whatever looks I or anybody else give him.” The waitress’s voice matched Rogue’s in volume, and had a noticeable undercurrent of anger running through it.
Rogue snorted and propped her fists on her hips. “Ah’m older than Ah look, sweetie.”
“Okay,” the waitress nodded, “If you insist, I’ll give you eighteen maybe. That’s still too young for him, and maybe you don’t realize that, girl, but he should.” She jabbed her finger accusingly at Logan.
Logan ignored the finger and sipped his coffee. You know, he said conversationally to Wolverine, I’m gettin’ really sick o’ people reactin’ this way.
Wolverine growled in response. She does look young, he reminded Logan grumpily.
“Ah’m twenty-two. Wanna see mah license?” Rogue asked, venom dripping from every syllable of the otherwise polite question. Everybody in the diner was paying careful attention to the two women and Logan saw the man at the grill frowning and reaching for the phone.
“Yeah, I would,” the waitress said haughtily and held out her hand.
“Fine!” Rogue snapped.
“Uh, darlin’?” Logan interjected. “You left your wallet at the cabin, remember?”
“Well shit!” she shrieked, and several women gasped and covered their children’s ears. Rogue cast them a disgusted look. “What’re ya doin’ that fer? They already heard it. Come on, sugar, let’s go.”
With Wolverine rumbling discontentedly in his ear, he reminded her mildly, “We haven’t eaten yet.”
“Ah don’t care!” Rogue snapped as she shouldered the waitress out of the way and grabbed their belongings from the seat opposite him. She threw Logan’s coat at him. “Now move it!” She spun on her heal and strode angrily toward the door.
Logan gulped the rest of his coffee hastily and drew his wallet from his back pocket as he stood. He tossed a few dollars on the table for their drinks and muttered sarcastically to the waitress, “Thanks.” The woman just blinked at him.
“Logan!” Rogue called angrily from the doorway.
“Yeah, I’m comin’,” he groused.
“Keys!” Rogue demanded, thrusting out her hand when he got closer. He dug them out of his pocket and handed them over without argument. He kept quiet as they walked back to the Explorer, letting Rogue vent. He winced when she slammed her door angrily, but otherwise didn’t react when she peeled out of the graveled parking lot. He didn’t react when she took the snowy curves of the road too fast, didn’t react when he felt the back end of the vehicle sliding. They were halfway to the cabin before Rogue said something he could actually respond to.
“Ya think Ah overreacted, don’t ya?”
Logan looked at her for a moment, seeing that most of the anger had faded from her eyes. “Maybe a little,” he acknowledged calmly.
Rogue huffed and eased her foot off the accelerator. “Darnit,” she muttered grumpily. They had been driving in silence for another minute or so when Rogue snickered. “Guess nobody’ll be forgettin’ the new folks in town anytime soon.”
Logan snorted.
Rogue cast him a mischievous grin. “Here’s the game plan, sugar. Ah realize Ah kinda ruined the day for us, so we’re gonna go back to the cabin so Ah can get mah wallet. An’ then we’re goin’ back into town so’s Ah can apologize to the waitress an’ we can get somethin’ to eat.”
“She’s likely to spit in our food with or without an apology,” Logan warned her.
“Yeah, well, if Ah acted that badly, Ah guess Ah deserve it.”
“I don’t,” Logan grumbled. “We’re better off eatin’ somewhere else.”
“Hush up,” Rogue said mildly. “Ah’ve decided we’re goin’ back to that diner, so that’s what we’re gonna do.”
Logan didn’t bother arguing after that, and while it seemed Rogue was over her anger, he couldn’t help the worried feeling nagging at him. Or Wolverine whispering to him that they had never seen Rogue act that way and that she had never been prone to mood swings before.