The man was certainly living up to his namesake, she'd have to give him that much.
Shouldering through the doorway, far too clumsy on her crutches to deliver the patented Jean Grey Look with any force, she sighed, took another long look at the Wolverine, ensconced so smugly on the ghastly roses of the motel bedspread, and folded bonelessly into a chair. Letting the crutches clatter to the floor, her tone was flat, unquestioning as she stated that "The Professor sent you."
"Naw, Jean." A laconic reply, lazy posture as he leaned on his elbows masking a hidden concern screamingly obvious to her mind. Everyone had been seeming an open book to her lately, since shortly before the events at... Her mind stuttered to a halt, and she irritably pushed onwards in defiance of her nerves.
Alkali Lake. Hah. I said it. She'd enjoyed the new sensitivity of her powers on the bus, a welcome distraction from the burning knot in her chest whenever her mind travelled only on it's own thoughts, but now...? Concern thrummed off Logan's mind, both infuriating and tempting in the release offered if she gave in to it. Fuck the concern. Fuck all of their concern, weighing on her like a depth of water, smothering her until she ran. All I want is to be alone--
He was still talking. Words slow and steady, eyes locked on her face. She'd thought she could swim forever in those gorgeous hazel eyes once, another lifetime of nine days ago.
"Chuck didn't send me. Didn't want you to be disturbed..." Good, she snapped, if only in her head. "Going on about adjustment periods, emotional distance, acting out, all that psychological bullshit you academics are so damn fond of. Fuck that, Jeannie. I ain't got a string of letters behind my name, but I know about pain, and I know about loss. And I know that people need other people, and not just sitting alone in some shitty motel with a bottle of whiskey they're too guilty to drink. So," Logan announced, looking up and smirking a little at catching her watching out of the corner of her eye, "I ain't leaving 'til you wanna head back to the school. S'where you belong." He paused, looking expectant and a little pleased with himself.
Jean merely lifted an eyebrow and said nothing. While she had to admit that was probably the longest speech she'd ever head from him, she'd be damned if she was going to fall sobbing around his neck like some heroine out of a bad movie. Even though it would feel really good to be held... a traitorous segment of her brain whispered. She ignored it. Logan was Logan. He was the bad boy drifter who'd breezed in from nowhere and swapped the order of her emotions pole for pole. He was the reason that her memories of Scott would never be wholly untouched by mixed feelings. And now he'd tracked her down like his very presence was supposed to make it all better?
Arrogant bastard.
Arrogant bastard who was sprawled in the middle of her bed. Her bed. Her bed which was much more comfortable than the hard chair. And her leg in its cast was starting to ache, hinting at time for more painkillers and elevating it.
Minutes passed.
The hockey game roared on, the sound tinny over the speakers of the cheap television. The Flames from somewhere scored twice on the something-or-others from Vancouver. She had to admit that the killer whale logo looked rather neat. The ref blew the whistle for some undefinable reason that nonetheless had Logan growling.
Her leg was really starting to get insistant.
Halftime or whatever it was in hockey started, and some loudmouthed man in an obnoxious plaid jacket began to bash the coaches of the team from Vancouver. Her leg was getting interminable. A little smirk on Logan's lips let her know that the man on the bed had noticed her fidgeting.
Scowling, but determined to not say a word, she hopped the short distance between them, flopped on the bed beside Logan, stole his pillow to prop up her leg, switched the channel from sports to gardening with telekinesis and a thin smile, and then defiantly ignored him, popping one of her pills and letting the smile remain.
Watching the show for his benefit from the corner of one eye, Logan bit down on a laugh. Red was still a fighter, she'd be all right. She just needed a smug son of a bitch to help push her along a bit. And he was the best at what he did...