Something might be wrong
Ororo Munroe was not one for vulgar language. In her opinion, there were many vocables in the multitudinous lexicons of language to be utilised to suit the infinitesimal needs and wants of whomever the speaker happened to be, and what they wished to articulate. However, some of her teammates - like Logan - found articulating their intricate thoughts or emotions to be abundantly and fruitlessly arduous; but that had their merits, as sometimes one can only rely on the simplest form of truth - this was one of those circumstances.
There was many an adjective to describe how Logan appeared that morning, after his lengthy disappearance.
But, as he would put it, Wolverine looked like shit.
Jubilee didn’t seem to notice, though, as she ran up to him and hugged him with a big smile on her face. He stumbled back slightly, eyebrows raised and his mouth slightly open. Ororo heard Scott huff from behind her, but she paid it no mind.
There was something wrong with Logan.
His lips were dry, cheeks rosy, black hair soaked, eyes red-rimmed…
...something was very, very wrong.
“Wolvie!” Jubilee squealed, nuzzling her head into his chest “I missed you soooomuch!”
Logan let out a hoarse chuckle “I missed you, too.” he said softly, running a trembling right hand through her hair. He let his hand fall back to his side as Jubilee pulled away from the hug, folding her arms and pouting slightly in mock anger, yet being unable to suppress a grin that kept briefly flickering onto her face.
“What took you so-” Jubilation stopped, frowning as she seemingly noticed Logan's pallid and peaky appearance for the first time. He stared back at her, small smile fading. Turning to face Ororo and Scott, he besmeared that signature scowl upon his visage.
“‘Ro, Slim,” he greeted, adjusting his jeans with his left hand (were they usually this loose?), teeth chattering a little “D-di-id I miss anythin’?”
“It is good to see you too, Wolverine,” Ororo said, raising an eyebrow; she turned back to the kitchen counter, setting the kettle on its stove and clicking it on “Kitty has discovered a forgotten janitor’s closet in the second floor of the west wing. Peter ‘convinced’ Kurt to watch The Exorcist and now Kurt refuses to speak to him, though he will not admit it.”
While she spoke, Ororo watched Logan from the corner of her eye. He lurched towards one of the kitchen cabinets and thrust it open - at the sight of the food, his stomach gurgled, half a noisy beg for nourishment and half a sickly prayer to withhold from eating - Ororo realised when she heard a quiet retch escape Logan as he shuddered.
Jubilee, uncomfortable, hastily shuffled out of the kitchen, leaving her soggy cereal on the table.
“Deadpool got his 6969th restraining order last Tuesday,” she continued, watching Logan shut the cabinet door “He’s been celebrating ever since. He was disappointed when I informed him that you were currently MIA, and he offered to help us search, but Cyclops declined.”
“He’s a lunatic, Storm.” Scott argued, taking a final swig of his water and setting it down on the kitchen counter “You can’t trust some who’s that immature.” And with that, he left the room as well. Ororo heard the smooth ‘clack’ of the refrigerator door opening.
“Tha-tha-that was nice of him,” Logan stammered as he grabbed something that Ororo couldn’t see from out of the fridge before closing it and staggering over to the table, clumsily taking a seat, nearly falling over in the process.
‘SNIKT’, Logan popped his right-hand’s middle claw with a wince, and-
“Wolverine,” Ororo warned, hearing the kettle ‘ding’ to notify her it was finished boiling “I do not believe it is wise to drink alcoholic beverages without eating first, especially with your current-”
Logan abruptly convulsed, his head jerked forward, his right shoulder crunched into the side of his face; a guttural howl ruptured from his craw and he swiftly gripped the edge of the table, his body shaking violently. The beer can fell to the ground with a clatter.
Ororo gasped and rushed forward, but Logan shakily waved her away. She grabbed his shoulder, but immediately yanked it back with a pained cry.
His skin burned, like there was lava in his veins. She stepped back, bumping into the kitchen counter, eyes wide.
“I’m jus’ cold, ‘Ro, I’m jus’ a lil’ cold, s’all!” Logan slurred, teeth grinding against each other as he unsteadily reached down to grab the fallen can “Is n-n-noth-nothin’ a lil’ drink can’t fix.”
Shivering, Logan sliced open the can before retracting his claw, and took a swig.