[ The couch. Logan glances at it. It's one step above something you'd find abandoned on the side of a road, stuffed into the cramped room between the bed and the wobbly round table. These rundown hotels and motels are mostly shitā€”yellowed wallpaper, a microwave on top of a dresser that barely worksā€”but Scott's right: out of everybody, Logan's right at home. The Blocks' lined with the kinda places he drifted in and out of for years, if he bothered to look for a bed at all. His room at the school back in the day was the nicest he'd been in by a long shot.
Funny. He's almost never seen Scott away from the school, either. They didn't exactly take road trips together.
For a second, Logan's eyes narrow, one inch away from picking a fight to pick a fight. Then he sticks the still-burning cigar back between his lips. ]
Since when were you scared of the dark? [ Yeah, fine. He's not gonna kick Scott out. Once upon a time, he would've. Doesn't mean he's keen to hang around while Cyclops snores a foot away. He grabs his jacket. ] There's moldy bread somewhere around here. Help yourself.
[ He's out the door without another word, though he hasn't gone far. If Scott looks out the window, Logan's sat on the curb beneath it three floors down, finishing his cigar, one leg stretched out. He needs some goddamn air. So much for sleep. The hell is he supposed to do with the pain in his ass behind that door? A lot's happened. Trask, the Sentinels. And it's also, it's been a long time since he'sā€”Jesus, since he's thought of Jean, okay? Really thought of her in that way that squeezes his chest. He buried her twice, buried dozens more after that. It never stopped hurting, but maybeā€”after all this timeā€”it started to dull. Or he got used to ache in his heart.
Scott knocking on his door completely fucks that all up. Ain't that just like him.
Fifty-fifty chance, whether Scott goes down after him or if he just sets up on that lumpy couch and leaves things be. Logan knows which option he'd prefer. ]
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Funny. He's almost never seen Scott away from the school, either. They didn't exactly take road trips together.
For a second, Logan's eyes narrow, one inch away from picking a fight to pick a fight. Then he sticks the still-burning cigar back between his lips. ]
Since when were you scared of the dark? [ Yeah, fine. He's not gonna kick Scott out. Once upon a time, he would've. Doesn't mean he's keen to hang around while Cyclops snores a foot away. He grabs his jacket. ] There's moldy bread somewhere around here. Help yourself.
[ He's out the door without another word, though he hasn't gone far. If Scott looks out the window, Logan's sat on the curb beneath it three floors down, finishing his cigar, one leg stretched out. He needs some goddamn air. So much for sleep. The hell is he supposed to do with the pain in his ass behind that door? A lot's happened. Trask, the Sentinels. And it's also, it's been a long time since he'sā€”Jesus, since he's thought of Jean, okay? Really thought of her in that way that squeezes his chest. He buried her twice, buried dozens more after that. It never stopped hurting, but maybeā€”after all this timeā€”it started to dull. Or he got used to ache in his heart.
Scott knocking on his door completely fucks that all up. Ain't that just like him.
Fifty-fifty chance, whether Scott goes down after him or if he just sets up on that lumpy couch and leaves things be. Logan knows which option he'd prefer. ]