Laura glances down at her claws, at how they reflect the light of Baedal's moon. She never forgets they're there, the physical reminders of what she is supposed to be. New and Improved Wolverine.

After a moment, she retracts them with a similar snikt. There isn't even a scar on her knuckles where they emerged. She says nothing -- the answer to that question is almost certainly 'yes', but her feelings on the matter are inexhaustibly conflicted and how does she even begin to categorize hurt, on the scale she knows it?

"What is your training?"