"We're here to be different; to show the world they don't have to fear us with loaded guns."
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Ximena Dominguez has lived one too many lives. The ending of the last wasn't one she liked to repeat. From a young age her mutant abi...
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THE DOCTORS WERE SERENADED by smooth jazz as Jean and Ximena busied themselves with work. It was Ximena's suggestion, seeing as she hated working in complete quiet. The constant beeping of the monitors weren't doing it for her. The brunette held a chart in her hands, checking off the vital signs and heart rate as somewhat normal.
His papers read James Logan Howlett. The mutant she had been sending visions of herself to guide him along the best path. The future depended on it. From fighting in the underground boxing matches, to meeting Maria. She finessed it, but it was ultimately Logan's decision whether or not he would listen to her. That was a coin-flip in itself.
He was incredibly handsome, she'd give him that. Logan had this rugged, unkept look about him. It screamed aggression and red flags, but she had a habit of liking those types no matter the warning signs.
Her cocoa brown eyes ghosted over his chiseled facial features and unruly hair. Down to his beaten up and wrinkled off white t-shirt. It was dingy and holey, over worn and on its last leg. Much like his entire persona. She secretly smiled to herself, but it seemed Jean caught her expression.
"What's that face?" Jean teased with a small, amused smile.
Ximena fake innocence, "What face?" Her lips buckled into a lower chuckle, before she checked off another thing off the list. "Someone might have to offer him a hair cut."
"And here I thought you liked the aggressive, rugged look?" The red head smirked as she took out his IV carefully, watching as the skin quickly healed over.
The brunette feigned offense, "What did I say about reading my mind? I don't take a sneaky peek into your dreams at night. Or do I? A glistening, shirtless Scott running into the ocean like he's on an episode of Bay Watch. 'I'm coming for you Jean! Hang on tight, baby." She made a kissy face, cackling at the reddened cheeks of her best friend.
"Mena," Jean flushed, ducking her head in embarrassment.
"Hey, I'm just leveling the playing field. Lord knows how much you and Professor poke around in here." She tapped her temple before pointing towards Logan's unconscious body.
"He's showing signs of regenerative properties. His cells are constantly re-writing themselves. We won't need that transfusion after all." Jean nodded to her words, going to put the supply back away into the fridge.
The Illusionist Doctor ran her soft hands down his hair riddled arm. She could feel the grooves in his skin from old scarring. Ximena could only guess how much he had been through before he got to her lab. Trailing her fingertips to the furrows between his knuckles, finding the roughest whelps there.
