Stephanie hadn't encountered any demons as of late, but with the New Mutants, they'd certainly fought their share of cultists. Unlike Marcelo, she didn't have much to physically show for it all- she wasn't Wolverine by a long shot, but if anything did manage to bruise her, they'd usually go away pretty quickly on their own. And things that would have killed her husband only pissed her off.

Her husband.

She propped her head up in her hands and tried to remember when the last time they'd spent any real amount of time together was- if she excluded a couple of quick couplings inspired more by physical need than any intimacy, she reasoned the last time they were together for any significant amount of time was two weeks ago.

I'm such a horrible wife, Stephanie realized glumly as a fresh sob worked its way through her and somehow her eyeballs coaxed out a little more fluid.

I have to be up in three hours. I can't. But I have to. Seized by a sudden, white-hot anger, her hand lashed out with blinding speed and a plate, glass and lousy delivery food clattered to the floor or splattered against the walls.

That brief show of anger just brought forward more tears, her shoulders heaving with each sob.