Both options laid flat on his bed, one was a Regina George ensemble, and the other was a very cheap-looking recreation of his fallen friend Gambit.
"That's a shit costume," Laura stated, walking into his room, "Go with Regina, at least you won't be insulting a dead hero." She raised her brows at him, watching as his eyes narrowed.
"His death was pure speculation, have you seen the film all the way through?" He pointed to the costumes, "Or are you a fake Marvel fan who leaves before the end credits." He accused.
"What the fuck is Marvel?"
"Who the hell is Bucky?"
"What does that mean?"
"Ha, proved my point you little fuck. Fake fan." Wade shook his head in disappointment.
I swear, I'm surrounded by the uncultured.
"At least I don't stalk Thor on Twitter." Laura pulled a face, "That's a new level of creepy, dude."
"It's not creepy if we're meant to be," Wade muttered, turning to the imaginary camera.
And we are, right? Miss, Author, there is only one correct answer.
Laura furrowed her brows, before exiting his room and walking into the apartment hallway.
"Hey." She nodded at Logan, the man standing at the counter in the kitchen, pouring a fresh cup of coffee.
It had been nearly 5 in the morning, and no one in the loft could sleep, instead, trying to be semi-productive in the late night hours, which eventually stretched into the early morning hours.
Laura had studied for an exam (it was math, which she was surprisingly good at.)
Logan had passed the time drinking, though a little less than usual, the man stopping at four glasses of bourbon rather than his usual seven.
And Wade, well, the mercenary spent his time reading.
Proofreading the past chapters, and let me tell you, this book could use some editing.
