"Logaaaaaaaaaan...."

Logan was stretched out over the bed on his back, cigar tucked firmly in his corner of his mouth when Marie came whining into the room.

He knew that voice. It was her 'save me' voice. The one she used when she wanted his help opening a jar or hanging a picture frame. All the stuff that made him feel like a man more than saving the world ever could. The stuff she *never* asked Bobby to do. "What's wrong darlin'?"

She flopped down on the bed beside him, her bottom lip quivering slightly. "Ah hurt mah wrist taday an' no ones got any Advil."

One eyebrow shot up as he gently took her offending wrist into his hand. "Jeannie ain't got any Tylenol or somethin' down there?"

"No... She said all she had was stuff that had to be prescribed. And 'it wasn't hurt that bad'." She mimicked the red haired doctor.

A small grin quirked onto Logan's face at the less than stellar impression. He carefully placed her hand back in her lap and eased off the bed. "So what happened?"

"Oh," Marie's cheeks suddenly got very scarlet. Logan didn't see it, however, he was at his closet, opening several doors. "Nothin', ya know, me an' Jubs... doin' what me an' Jubs do."

He turned around then, skeptic eyes meeting hers. But he accepted the answer anyway, since if Jubilee was involved he was probably better off not knowing anyway. So his attention went back to the complex drawer system in his closet. "None of your friends' had any Tylenol?"

"Nope. We used it all up during Menstrual Week. You know, how we all tend to have our period the same time so--"

"Believe me," Logan interrupted her. "I know."

She nodded, grimacing slightly from embarrassment. "Yeah, so, all pain relievers went towards fightin' the good fight."

"Well, I don't have any Advil or Tylenol," He called out from the closet. "But I do have somethin' just as good."

Marie scooted to the end of the bed closer to him, her hand already open. "Oh thank you Logan, ah just assumed ya wouldn't have anythin' cuz of your mutation an' all, but is really great. This really---" She stopped and stared flabbergasted at the tiny bottle he placed in her hand. "Logan, sugah. This isn't pain killer medicine its vodka."

"Whatever dulls the pain darlin'," he lightly tapped her shoulder and took a long puff from his cigar, a sly smirk on his face. "And its blueberry flavored. Tastes a hell of a lot better than that cherry shit."