Disclaimer: I don't own Logan or Ororo. Marvel does. pouts
Screams. Grunts of pain. The smell of blood, death, and urine.
The man tossed and turned in his bed before jolting into a sitting position six metal blades shooting out of his knuckles with a quiet SNIKT. The man looked around panting, chest heaving. He was safe in his room at the mansion not in the military base where those bastards seriously messed up his life. A sudden stench made his nose wrinkle in disgust. Looking down he sighed. It had happened again. Standing up he quickly striped his bed before leaving the room and walking down the hallway. Entering the laundry room he spotted an African woman with white hair loading bed clothes into the washer. At his entrance she looked up in surprise before smiling gently.
"Another one?" she asked still smiling.
The man just growled making her chuckle.
"Put them in with the rest Logan," she said chuckling quietly as she watched Logan stalk over to the washer before dumping his sheets in before turning to leave. At the door he stopped.
"Ororo," he said not looking behind him making the woman look up.
"Yes?" Ororo replied curious.
"Thanks," Logan grunted before leaving the laundry room to get clean sheets for his bed.
"Your welcome Logan," she said softly knowing that he had heard her.