Logan watched Jean from across the car as their driver smoothly navigated through the city.
She was quiet again. The kind of quiet that didn't just mean tired, it meant distracted. Wounded in a way she hadn't said out loud yet.
He waited a moment longer before finally speaking. Anything to grab her attention from whatever she's stressing about.
"Henry goes to the hospital every night."
Jean blinked, slowly turning to look at him. "To see Emma?"
Logan nodded. "Even when he finishes late. Even when he's dead tired. He stops by her room. Just sits with her. Talks to her like she's going to wake up any second."
Jean said nothing. Her fingers curled slightly on her lap.
"He tells the nurse to change her flowers every third day. Brings her favorite hand cream. Says her skin shouldn't feel dry, coma or not."
Jean's throat tightened. She hadn't known that. "That's… very Henry, though I didn't know they were close." She murmured.
But Logan didn't smile.
