SCOTT: She's home.
JEAN: She's sick.
ORORO: She'll write.
HANK: She shouldn't. She's under the influence of cold medication; she needs rest.
ROGUE: Ah'm with Ororo. She'll write.
LOGAN: I hope not.
(all heads turn)
SCOTT: You're her favorite, why don't you want her to write?
LOGAN: She killed me in the last two fics about the mansion. I need a break.
SCOTT: She's killed me, too, you know…
JEAN: Boys…
LOGAN: Once. She killed you once.
SCOTT: She had some maniac drill into my head, too.
LOGAN: Big deal. I've been struck by lightning, bit by a dog, drugged, stabbed, blown up with a grenade rifle,…
ORORO: Boys…
LOGAN: …torn apart by Magneto, drowned, shot in the throat five times with darts, had the metal put back, shot in the heart,…
ROGUE: Shhh, she's sleeping.
LOGAN: Did I mention drowning? What? She's asleep? Good. Keep her that way. God knows what she'll write if she's on cold medicine. I'm not sure I can take it.
ROGUE: She did make it to where Ah can touch you now, you know.
(silence)
LOGAN: (whispering) If you ever were to write a smut fic…
SCOTT: What's he saying? Is he trying to convince her to kill me off?
JEAN: Relax, you're one of her other favorites.
HANK: Perhaps it would be best if we were to simply let nature take its course and heal her sinus congestion and chest cold. After all, she's sure to come back to us. Her family and the house can't occupy all of her time.
ORORO: She'll write.
LOGAN: (still whispering) Remember what I said about the smut fic... ------
End
Back to the library.