"Ow! I'm alright!"

Logan insisted on helping her around the apartment like she was a damn invalid. OK, fine, she had been an invalid, but she wasn't now. It had been a week since she was shot, how the hell long did he think it took her science project body to heal?

"Max, you have two days to go before I take you in for a checkup. And I'll have three angry Manticores after me if I let anything get damaged. I was just helping you up."

Anything. How very objectifying of him. "I'm sure your hand didn't mean to stay there either, because that would mean I was incapable of walking across a room alone." God, he was treating her like he was her damn brother or something. Whatever.

"Logan, I'm fine." She was still a bit wobbly, and more than a bit emotional, but she wasn't going to admit it. "And I'm hungry. Where are my cookies."

"Max, you ate the cookies. All of the cookies within a ten-mile radius. Animal crackers are not a real common post-Pulse commodity."

Fine. If he was going to treat her like a baby sister instead of...she cut the thought off. Well, then she was going to act like one.

"I WANT MY COOKIES AND I WANT THEM NOW!"

Logan caved. "There's a place about an hour away. It's the best chance to get them. If you promise not to go anywhere while I'm gone, I'll go check for you."

Max smiled. "I've got a much better idea. I'm going with you." She cut Logan off before he could protest. "Fresh air heals, you know."

Logan saw the glint in her eyes and immediately set about convincing her to stay home, in bed, where she belonged.