Out of Bed
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
A fist slams down. Pieces of plastic scatter to the ground.
“Argh.”
It’s time to get up. So why aren’t you moving? You need to go meet with Rogers.
The Wolverine looks up at the ceiling.
Stares up.
What was that thing Jubilee told me to do? Right.
In. out.
Suddenly, feet hit the ground-
“FUCK-”
- Right into some scattered alarm parts.
Keep moving. One foot. The other. He grits his teeth.
By the time Logan gets to the bathroom, his body has already ejected the vengeance of his early morning action.
Gripping the sink, blue eyes meet his. The mug he sees in the mirror isn’t something that looks very ‘hero’. Those blue eyes are sunken, hollow looking. Eyebrows permanently knitted together. A nose that somehow looks broken in 5 places. For someone with a healing factor, it's a wonder he looks so shit. Ambiance of water gently hitting his plastic current, desperately trying to bring him peace. Instead they feel like bullets rattling in his brain. Nevermind. The shower is turned off.
Scratching his beard, he walks into the kitchen. Looking around, there is nothing that seems particularly good to eat. No, all of it is disgusting. The idea of making something and eating it sounds horrid. There is a glass from last night on the table with some water in it at least.
Clink.
“Guess I’ll leave…” He says under his breath, taking one last look around the apartment. He goes back to his room-
“Shit!”
-steps on some more plastic and then slips on his jeans and a white shirt. At the door he grabs his leather jacket and shoes. Locks the door. He’s got a meeting.
The wind hitting his face does feel better.
He’s never been jealous of Angel’s ability to fly, however if Mr. Worthington feels like this everyday and doesn’t have to stop because a Honda Civic decides it doesn't know how to drive, maybe he will begin to be. Logan starts to bob and weave through the traffic of Brooklyn. Anything to keep this comfort of wind on his face. A rare smile starts to creep on to his face.
Just needed to get outside, maybe sometimes it is that simple. He makes a mental note to thank Steve for getting him out of the house.
The peaceful drive comes to a bitter end. He parks and drops his stand. Taking in the view of the public around him. Couples walking through the streets, wrapped up in scarves and jackets, dogs barking at one another, and a few kids sitting on brownstones talking. The warmth of the sun hitting Logan’s face.
Jubilee is right, maybe I do need to get out more.
Opening the door, The Wolverine is hit with the smell of fresh coffee grounds and sugar, light music plays in the background, it sounds like something Cat would listen too.
Speaking of, I haven't texted Kitty in a while, maybe I should send the song to her. As he goes to his messages, to send the song to Kitty Pryde. Logan gets a notification
Steve Rogers
-Running late! So sorry!
It’s fine. Just got here-
That's a first. Here before golden boy. A small chuckle escapes Logan.
After getting his order, he sits and waits. Scrolling through his phone. Kitty responded stating that of course she knows the newest Clairo song and sends 5 more songs as recommendations to Logan. He likes the songs on Spotify after telling her that he'll check them out. Looking through other contacts, trying to pick one he should probably text to let them know that he's alive… another notification popped up.
Steve Rogers
-Here!
A few screams echo through the cafe. Would be expected if America’s most beloved hero just entered. As Logan looks up to find Captain America. His eyes fall to a superhero costume. One not gleaming of patriotism. No, one screaming a foul stench. A red and black one.
“Helllooooooo Wolvie~”
You gotta be kidding me.