The world had just started to take on the confining and dank shapes of the New York City sewer system. Adernaline had begun to spike through her fatigue like a yellowing bruise, but like the strings on a puppet, it was the only thing keeping her going away from sleep where dreams tormented her or stillness where her thoughts filled in the gaps. Then it shimmered from pixelated view.
In fact, she was grateful for the reprieve, uncertain how to stop herself in this spiral of guilt and self-loathing that came so easily to Charles Xavier's discarded children. Of those to stumble upon her Logan was one of the better, there was too much to explain that she refused to those who saw her as a mentor, leader, teacher, or queen. Logan had seen her through the days that didn't merit discussion.
But that didn't mean she was thrilled with the idea. She wondered how long he had been watching.
"You know, Logan." She finally spoke, straightening her back with a regal stiffness she wore like armor, what she had taken from her divorce from Wakanda. "I have an override too."