Fool’s Gold:
He looked at the girl across from him. Dirty and wearing what looked like a threadbare pair of hospital scrubs, she reminded him of every other mutant he’d ever come across in a place like this. “Logan.”
“What are you doing here?” She said with a glare. He gave her a look and wondered how long she’d been tapped in this hellhole.
“Same as you, darlin’. I’m not here for my health. Look, what are their routines?” She shot him another hostile look and crawled forward on her hands and knees.
“Routines?” She reached out and touched the yellow trim on his uniform. “Breakfast in the morning, planning until lunch. Exercises in the afternoon and examinations after dinner. During the night is when I when I come up with the best plans; sometimes the ones in the mornings aren’t very good. Sometimes the good ones are spoiled.”
She was very close to his face now, her brows drawn together in concentration as she tried her best to pull the trim from his uniform. He caught her hands and pulled him from their work. “Times, girl. I need times.”
“Times? I don’t seem to have my blackberry on my right now, but if you give me a minute I’ll have my secretary pull up a list of tomorrows activities and you can pour over them to your heart’s content.” She leveled a bright eyed stare at him. “Does it look like I’ve got a window? My internal clock runs on 24 hours of dimness. They like it when the bright lights make you blink and squint, it’s easier not to see them coming.”
And as she sat there, straddling his hips and picking at the trim on his leather uniform, Logan found little help in the divided attention of a bat-shit girl disgruntled about her fate.
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