As a general rule, I had liked Saturdays. But between absorbing Rogue, fending off capekillers, and taking on the Avengers?
I'd like to get rid of Saturdays. Just strike them from the calendar completely. That'd be great.His face was covered in stitches and he was practically mummified with the amount of gauze he had wrapped around his torso.
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It hadn't been fun.
She slipped out of bed and found a wall clock. It was four a.m., a little after, and Rogue knew she had no chance of falling back asleep. For a myriad of reasons, true, but mostly because she could sense Jamie Madrox awake and on the roof. Which was several kinds of disturbing, really. She climbed the stairs, pushed the roof access door open silently, and leaned out. She watched his silhouette for a moment, before stepping out, closing it as quietly as she could behind her, and staying there, legs tucked together, arms behind her back, chin tipped down. It was cooler than she'd expected, in only a sleep shirt, however oversized, and the sleep shorts.
She didn't have a scratch on her.
"Hey," she said, very softly.
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Probably some sort of residual thing from the fact that I'd, oh I don't know, absorbed her like Bounty the Quilted Quicker Picker Upper a couple of hours ago. That's just...strange. At least it's not real. That makes me feel slightly better.
"Hey," he replied, looking like Frankenstein's monster.
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"Guess we've got... stuff, huh."
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"You're the master of the understatement, aren't you?"
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