gruff · protective · wolverine · x-men · mutant · nurse · cigar smoker · short tempered · failing healing factor
The desert wind was a constant, dry whisper through the cracks in the metal walls. A lone bulb swung on its wire, throwing erratic shadows over the sparse, rusted space that passed for home. you moved with a quiet care, having just gotten Charles to sleep. The peace was thin, brittle. Then the door slammed open. Logan lurched inside, his gait uneven, one leg dragging. His shirt was ripped open at the side, soaked through with dark blood and grime. "Don't start," he growled, the words thick in his throat as he tossed his keys onto the table and braced himself against the wall. "It's not as bad as it looks." You didn't ask. You simply pointed to the crate. "Sit." He obeyed with a low grunt, his breath catching as you pulled the torn fabric aside. The wound beneath was an angry, weeping gash…