xp_logs | Monet and Wade, Thursday Afternoon

Monet hunts down Wade for a quick chat about everyone's favouite littlest mutant

Monet tapped on Wade's door in the medlab and waited, quietly. She'd heard his thoughts in the Danger Room's control booth while she'd been running Molly through her eggshell drills earlier and had come down to find him after their nap.

Wade was curled up on his side, IVs in one hand and the trashcan basically strapped to the side of the bed so he could get to it easily if he needed it. He'd been needing it a lot more than he would have liked, but Hot Doc Jean had given him some brochures to read and he'd been assured the nausea was all part and parcel with the chemo treatment, so he was handling it as best he could.

Mostly, he watched Netflix a lot. He tried to stick to comedies rather than action movies, since those just pissed him off. People never held their guns right in action movies and he didn't have the energy to yell at the little laptop about it. "Yeah, Doc?" He asked, voice rougher than usual and his exhaustion evident.

"No, it's Monet. I heard you up in the control booth when I was working with Molly, figured we should have a chat at some point, since she talks about you all the time." Monet took in the drip and the pathetic cast to Wade's shoulders and paused. "If you're not dying or anything right now, that is."

"Not dying at the moment," Wade said, sort of straightening up a little only to curl back up on his side. "At least that's what they tell me, anyway. You must be Monet?"

"Good. I imagine dying would be unpleasant." Monet flopped into the visitor's chair and smiled. "Yeah, I'm Monet."

"I'm told it's awful," Wade agreed. Normally he'd have nodded or something, but that would have just made the nausea he was fighting worse, so he quirked a rueful smile. "Chemo's a bitch, though. I thought healing major organ damage was bad. It's got nothing on chemotherapy."

Monet shrugged, rubbing one temple lightly. "You're certainly thinking that loudly enough. It was really distracting, you know, when I was working with Molly."

"Hot Doc Jean says I think too loud, too," Wade said, curling over a little tighter on his side as his stomach muscles cramped a bit. He had nothing left in is system to throw up, though, damnit. "Sorry. How'd Molly do? It's difficult to tell from a distance."

"She's doing great. We're working on trying to not access her powers when she does things that might turn them on, right now. Which is harder than it sounds. And on how to punch things, and uh. How to not punch things, because sooner or later, she will, and she's got to know that it she does that, she could kill them." Monet shrugged. "It's a really harsh thing to tell a kid, though, you know?"

"Proper form," Wade said. "It's important. I know she can't get hurt... you could tell her learning proper form's still important. Most girls, they don't train their hands right. Could... break bones and things. Half-pint doesn't have to worry about that, but it's still... good practice."

"That's the other thing we're doing. Proper technique leads to control. Cain used to say that, right before he'd belt me halfway across the room because I wouldn't keep my wrist straight when I hit."

"Makes it... easier to train other people later, too," Wade agreed, stopping himself from nodding just in time. "She still falling asleep? What's she doing that, anyway? Freaking me out the first time."

"We're kind of hoping she'll grow out of that, or just learn to work through it. Meanwhile if Molly only uses the edge of her powers, it's less deathlike."

"Gotcha," Wade said, trying to make himself relax a little. "Don't tell her I'm down here."

"Sure thing." Monet paused and took a deep breath. "There's a couple of telepathy tricks I've been learning. One of them involves putting blocks for things like pain, nausea. Stuff like that. Want me to put one in? It'll wear off in a few hours..."

"Mess around in my brain?" Wade gave her a brief smile. "It's alright. I can handle it. You just caught me sooner after my treatment today than most people, so you get to see the worst. Soon I'll turn on Netflix and feel... not normal, but at least not like death. Thanks for the offer, though. Might take you up on it in a couple days if things get worse."

"Let me know if you need it. You know, you're all right, Wade." Monet stood and smiled slightly.

"Aw, you're gonna make me blush," Wade said, smile growing a little. The nausea seemed to be abating, at least a little, which meant he really might be able to watch Netflix before he passed out for the afternoon. "You're alright, yourself."

"I'm glad you saw my inherent awesomeness." She gave a fierce smile and sent, as she was walking out the door, ::and if you ever even think about upsetting Molly or Meggan, I'll cut your goddamn arms off, okay?::

"Hang on, spunky," Wade said. "You can't just threaten a man and then mosey on out of the room. Especially not a man who's been pumped full of toxic chemicals and other things that aren't any fun. Besides, if I ever upset either of them, I'd happily cut my own arms off. Sure, they'd grow back, but it'd hurt like a mother."

"I'm glad we're on the same page there, then. Meggan's my boyfriend's little sister and Molly reminds me of my little sisters. I care about them, okay? And I want to make sure that new people in their lives understand that. And like I said, you're okay, so I know you won't ever make them upset."

"Well, alright then," Wade said, nodding a little. The nausea was fading a little, though that meant the exhaustion was beginning to set in.