[The first thing he did once he wasn't, you know, actively dying, was go on a fuckfest. But the fucking was eating. So it was an eatfest. Dying sort of sucks, but you know what suuuper sucks? Starving. 'Cause it sort of just never ends.

So it's when Wade's sweet lips are wrapped around a big, thick, meaty sub when his phone goes off. He has to chew through like three inches of bread before he manages to fumble it out of one of his suit's pouches, because he's sitting in his suit with his mask only half-rolled up his face (he missed it, okay?)]

Huh?

[Somehow he's still saying it through a mouthful of bread.] Oh, hey Logie. [Still through a mouthful. This bread is chewy. Admittedly, this looks bad. He was gonna call. Catch up. Check in. But he was so fucking hungry, it was like he'd gone full animal for the closest thing he could get his hands on.] Breathin', eatin', shittin'. All the best things in life. [Hold on a second.] Figured you felt our little -- you know.

[And that was enough. If Logan cared at all. But. He. Definitely said dumb fuck with the kind of concern Wade doesn't hear often.

He swallows and doesn't take another bite, putting it down.] Hey. You good? [And Wade's got real concern, too.] Sorry. Felt like I was gonna lose it if I didn't eat something.

[Like he'd start eating his own arm. It hurt.]