[Oh, if he thought Logan was bad, it's gonna be all the worse when Scott has to psychically deal with the fact there's now two of them, and neither one can die.
But Wade is definitely the worse one. For sure. For one, Logan actually leaves rooms when he's tired of people --
Bracing himself didn't really help as much as he was thinking it would. But for a guy who's been bisected multiple times in his life (please don't ask, it's embarrassing), it still hurts less than having all his organs crudely splash upon the ground as his body is ripped apart. However, the lower level of pain (it still hurts, don't get him wrong) doesn't stop Wade from flinching as the room lights up. Wade makes a sound akin to when Goofy's unmentionables get set on fire as he catapults backwards, not only through a wall but over the balcony, ass over heels, until he splatters against the motel's dodgy pavement, which is stained enough that Wade suspects this is not the first time someone's been thrown over the balcony. Or been blasted from it.
Several bones begin to reknit together after their snapping, and he groans as he jerks his leg back into place.
First gratuitous injury of the game, folks!] I knew you had it in you, tiger! I wanna do it again!
[Once he heals this scalded skin under the large, still-smoking burnt hole in his suit, yeah. Oh, shit. He doesn't have a tailor anymore. (He never had one.) Well, chalk up his next paycheck to a sewing kit.]
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But Wade is definitely the worse one. For sure. For one, Logan actually leaves rooms when he's tired of people --
Bracing himself didn't really help as much as he was thinking it would. But for a guy who's been bisected multiple times in his life (please don't ask, it's embarrassing), it still hurts less than having all his organs crudely splash upon the ground as his body is ripped apart. However, the lower level of pain (it still hurts, don't get him wrong) doesn't stop Wade from flinching as the room lights up. Wade makes a sound akin to when Goofy's unmentionables get set on fire as he catapults backwards, not only through a wall but over the balcony, ass over heels, until he splatters against the motel's dodgy pavement, which is stained enough that Wade suspects this is not the first time someone's been thrown over the balcony. Or been blasted from it.
Several bones begin to reknit together after their snapping, and he groans as he jerks his leg back into place.
First gratuitous injury of the game, folks!] I knew you had it in you, tiger! I wanna do it again!
[Once he heals this scalded skin under the large, still-smoking burnt hole in his suit, yeah. Oh, shit. He doesn't have a tailor anymore. (He never had one.) Well, chalk up his next paycheck to a sewing kit.]