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Look, sex is a fun topic for the Bull.
On seeing the claw, though, he leans in closer to watch it retract and how quickly the skin knits together.
"Accelerated healing. Now that's handy," he muses. "Does that only work for healing tissues that are still attached, or can you regrow parts if they get removed?"
A clinical line of questioning from a very... not-so-intellectual looking man, to be sure.
On seeing the claw, though, he leans in closer to watch it retract and how quickly the skin knits together.
"Accelerated healing. Now that's handy," he muses. "Does that only work for healing tissues that are still attached, or can you regrow parts if they get removed?"
A clinical line of questioning from a very... not-so-intellectual looking man, to be sure.
Ow! [ It's the most immature sound that's come out of him since 1850. ] I gave!
Jesus. [ He lifts his shirt, looking at where the kick's left a bruise, and then watches it fade. His organs have more or less knitted themselves back together by now, but the ache still lingers like a ghost on every inch of him.
Pulling his shirt back down, Logan sits up and hears something crack in his spine as some of the bent adamantium is forced back into place with the healing of his bones.
He hisses a bit, but still looks up with a frown. ]
What're you pissed for?
Jesus. [ He lifts his shirt, looking at where the kick's left a bruise, and then watches it fade. His organs have more or less knitted themselves back together by now, but the ache still lingers like a ghost on every inch of him.
Pulling his shirt back down, Logan sits up and hears something crack in his spine as some of the bent adamantium is forced back into place with the healing of his bones.
He hisses a bit, but still looks up with a frown. ]
What're you pissed for?
[ Logan gives him a look. ]
Adamantium bones don't mean I move any different from other people. [ Quite frankly he can't believe X'rhun thinks that it makes much of a difference. All the adamantium does is make him heavier, and turns his bones impossible to break or shatter. ]
Pretty sure it'd work.
Adamantium bones don't mean I move any different from other people. [ Quite frankly he can't believe X'rhun thinks that it makes much of a difference. All the adamantium does is make him heavier, and turns his bones impossible to break or shatter. ]
Pretty sure it'd work.
Scoffing at that, Bull just shakes his head and leans back in his seat, passing the whiskey over to Logan.
"You're not into pain, doesn't take a genius to see that." He then adds with a slight, knowing smile, "But you don't mind a bit of force, as long as it's on your terms."
The stocky man is all about control, as if he's got some wild creature trapped under his skin just gnashing at the tethers, ready to get out. That much had been clear in the brawl, the vicious intent just barely curbed to stop from turning the fight into a bloodbath. He hadn't been that eager to follow Bull, but after some careful nudging and cajoling, a big hand giving his shoulder a squeeze, he'd allowed it.
Bull could work with that.
"You're not into pain, doesn't take a genius to see that." He then adds with a slight, knowing smile, "But you don't mind a bit of force, as long as it's on your terms."
The stocky man is all about control, as if he's got some wild creature trapped under his skin just gnashing at the tethers, ready to get out. That much had been clear in the brawl, the vicious intent just barely curbed to stop from turning the fight into a bloodbath. He hadn't been that eager to follow Bull, but after some careful nudging and cajoling, a big hand giving his shoulder a squeeze, he'd allowed it.
Bull could work with that.
Said smile gets to Logan more than he's willing to admit.
"What are you, a psychologist?" And he reaches out to snatch the whiskey from Bull's grip. He wraps his fingers around the neck when he drinks from it-- one, two, three-- and it's enough that the tickle in his jaw and throat not only lasts for five seconds instead of two, but also lingers like real tactile memory.
Logan shoves the whiskey back, and if he had fur, it'd be standing just like the points of his hair do.
"The hell did you take me here for, anyway?"
"What are you, a psychologist?" And he reaches out to snatch the whiskey from Bull's grip. He wraps his fingers around the neck when he drinks from it-- one, two, three-- and it's enough that the tickle in his jaw and throat not only lasts for five seconds instead of two, but also lingers like real tactile memory.
Logan shoves the whiskey back, and if he had fur, it'd be standing just like the points of his hair do.
"The hell did you take me here for, anyway?"
"Where the hell would a guy like me have studied psychology?" he shoots back, grin stretching over his scarred face.
"You're an interesting sort of guy. Was hoping you'd share a bit of your story with me," he shrugs, casually lifting the bottle to see how much liquor is even left. "Most fighter types locally go to the underground ring here, but your form's not sloppy enough for that. Not clean enough to be from a hobby, either. You jumped into the fight even if you didn't have to, but you're not some self-sacrificing hero-type. Too private for that kind of spotlight."
He stretches relaxedly, putting the bottle down on the ground between them and linking his fingers behind his shaved head, watching Logan's face. "You're interesting."
A brief pause, and then, just because he can, "Oh, and you have a sweet ass."
"You're an interesting sort of guy. Was hoping you'd share a bit of your story with me," he shrugs, casually lifting the bottle to see how much liquor is even left. "Most fighter types locally go to the underground ring here, but your form's not sloppy enough for that. Not clean enough to be from a hobby, either. You jumped into the fight even if you didn't have to, but you're not some self-sacrificing hero-type. Too private for that kind of spotlight."
He stretches relaxedly, putting the bottle down on the ground between them and linking his fingers behind his shaved head, watching Logan's face. "You're interesting."
A brief pause, and then, just because he can, "Oh, and you have a sweet ass."
"Wh--" The compliment comes out of bumfuck nowhere, and Logan doesn't have the time or the thought process left to really look anything but bewildered (and a little embarrassed) by it. "Quit looking at my ass!"
Though it's less because of offence and more because of genuine inability to even think of a proper reaction to that.
"I don't have a story." Bringing a hand up, he presses it to his eyes. The other stays dangling between his spread legs as his forearm rests gently atop his knee. "I just... I was born in Canada and ran away from home as a kid.
"Assholes aplenty. Learned how to punch. That's it."
Though it's less because of offence and more because of genuine inability to even think of a proper reaction to that.
"I don't have a story." Bringing a hand up, he presses it to his eyes. The other stays dangling between his spread legs as his forearm rests gently atop his knee. "I just... I was born in Canada and ran away from home as a kid.
"Assholes aplenty. Learned how to punch. That's it."
"Canada was clear in the accent," he comments, and adding, as an after-thought, "And I can't see your ass now."
Not that he'd protest having a closer look, but Logan needs a bit more coaxing for that.
"I'm gonna guess the military didn't teach you to throw the punches. That come before, after you ran away?"
Not that he'd protest having a closer look, but Logan needs a bit more coaxing for that.
"I'm gonna guess the military didn't teach you to throw the punches. That come before, after you ran away?"
"After," he muttered. His hand slid slowly down his face, but stayed enough for the edge of it to reach the bulb of his nose and keep his lower half covered.
"...I was a sickly kid. Couldn't punch for shit."
There was a bit of discomfort at being so frank about his life, but this was mostly because no-one ever really thought to ask.
And Logan's not much of a sharer otherwise.
"...I was a sickly kid. Couldn't punch for shit."
There was a bit of discomfort at being so frank about his life, but this was mostly because no-one ever really thought to ask.
And Logan's not much of a sharer otherwise.
Bull cocks his head at that. "... Mutation took a while to kick in, huh?"
Which explains the running away from home bit.
"That's rough."
Which explains the running away from home bit.
"That's rough."
"Other kids've had it rougher." He's certainly met enough to know.
"But I'm fine." Or at least as fine as he'll ever be. Logan doesn't really know if PTSD ever goes away for good, but isn't hopeful about it.
He isn't hopeful about peace, either, but he'll appreciate whatever reprieve he gets.
"Two-hundred years means not much is surprising any more."
"But I'm fine." Or at least as fine as he'll ever be. Logan doesn't really know if PTSD ever goes away for good, but isn't hopeful about it.
He isn't hopeful about peace, either, but he'll appreciate whatever reprieve he gets.
"Two-hundred years means not much is surprising any more."
Excuse Bull while his brows shoot up at the age. Wow, that healing factor is insane.
"... You're looking damn fine for an old-timer," he offers, grinning again and waggling his brows for good effect.
Maybe the ridiculous statement will snap Logan out of his moodiness for a few seconds.
"... You're looking damn fine for an old-timer," he offers, grinning again and waggling his brows for good effect.
Maybe the ridiculous statement will snap Logan out of his moodiness for a few seconds.
He scoffs, then brings his hand down from his face to punch Bull's knee (albeit light enough he's sure it won't hurt). "You just haven't seen me without the dentures."
It helps, though. Defensive as he is at being read so easily. Logan supposes there're a few perks to that. Like Bull knowing what to say, somehow.
"So?" Making a small upward nod of his head, Logan points at Bull with his chin. "You gonna fess something up, too?"
It helps, though. Defensive as he is at being read so easily. Logan supposes there're a few perks to that. Like Bull knowing what to say, somehow.
"So?" Making a small upward nod of his head, Logan points at Bull with his chin. "You gonna fess something up, too?"
The big man just grins, playfully grabbing the hand that had punched his knee, his considerably larger, greyer one easily wrapping completely around Logan's before releasing it.
"You'd have to make some educated guesses first," he points out.
"You'd have to make some educated guesses first," he points out.
"Yeah." There's a disbelieving 'heh' somewhere there. "Sure, because I look smart."
But Logan looks up at Bull's face, and really, he's drawing a blank for the most part, but at least one thing sticks out.
"You and your mum on good terms?" He'd ask if Bull had a father, but feels that might be too personal.
But Logan looks up at Bull's face, and really, he's drawing a blank for the most part, but at least one thing sticks out.
"You and your mum on good terms?" He'd ask if Bull had a father, but feels that might be too personal.
"Never met her," he shrugs. "When I said I apologised to her every day, it's always been in my head."
He scratches at his short beard and decides to explain a bit. "Come from a secluded community that didn't really practice 'conventional' family life. Kids all got grouped and raised together without meeting their parents. I'm on good terms with the woman who raised my group, and I guess she's the closest thing I've had to a mother."
He scratches at his short beard and decides to explain a bit. "Come from a secluded community that didn't really practice 'conventional' family life. Kids all got grouped and raised together without meeting their parents. I'm on good terms with the woman who raised my group, and I guess she's the closest thing I've had to a mother."
He doesn't even have to think about it before saying, "That counts."
As someone starved for any form of family whatsoever, of course it has to count. Logan thinks about groups and lets his eyes roam over Bull's figure, then furrows his brows a bit as he remembers the mention of tugging. "They all have horns like you, or...?"
As someone starved for any form of family whatsoever, of course it has to count. Logan thinks about groups and lets his eyes roam over Bull's figure, then furrows his brows a bit as he remembers the mention of tugging. "They all have horns like you, or...?"
"Most of them, yeah." He's happy enough that Logan's not going to grill him on how that could possibly count as family. "Think there was some talk of them having historically been a tribe of mutants all with the same general mutations. That'd explain why they kept to themselves, because we're not that easily accepted now, when people know about mutants. Can you imagine back then? Probably got hunted down for being demons or some shit like that."
"I'll tell you the hunting happens no matter what you look like." And it still happens now, especially in more conservative countries. The thought of it is both infuriating and exhausting, but Logan allows a small, weary smile instead of any expressions of rage.
"Think your people had the right idea. Being a mutant's shit enough, but not being alone makes a lot of things better."
"Think your people had the right idea. Being a mutant's shit enough, but not being alone makes a lot of things better."
"Yeah, but you know what's shit about that? You don't get anywhere near enough variations in genetics," he responds with a snort. "Every so often there's fresh blood introduced to the community, but otherwise it's more of the same. So we don't get redheads."
He says this as if it's the most tragic thing in the world, and it is! "Mm, redheads..."
Bull, no.
He says this as if it's the most tragic thing in the world, and it is! "Mm, redheads..."
[ His skin tingles in the absence of Logan's touch, and Matt sighs unconsciously, missing the innocent intimacy of it.
The man's answer isn't a surprise, in fact it's pretty much what Matt expected to hear. But he's disappointed all the same. He shoves the feeling down, however. What Logan does at the school is important; those kids need him. More than Matt does, even if some jealous part wants to believe otherwise. ]
Daredevil and Wolverine, huh? [ He smiles; it'll probably never be a reality, but it's nice to imagine. ] You do good work up there, at your school. Important work. I'm glad the kids have someone like you to help them.
[ His hand finds Logan's, taking as much contact as he can get until the man decides it's time to go. ] Just call me once in a while, let me know how you're doing? More than once a decade.
The man's answer isn't a surprise, in fact it's pretty much what Matt expected to hear. But he's disappointed all the same. He shoves the feeling down, however. What Logan does at the school is important; those kids need him. More than Matt does, even if some jealous part wants to believe otherwise. ]
Daredevil and Wolverine, huh? [ He smiles; it'll probably never be a reality, but it's nice to imagine. ] You do good work up there, at your school. Important work. I'm glad the kids have someone like you to help them.
[ His hand finds Logan's, taking as much contact as he can get until the man decides it's time to go. ] Just call me once in a while, let me know how you're doing? More than once a decade.
Dealing with you is a godsdamned pain in the arse.
[He'll never get over just how... disgusting Logan's body and healing ability is. The sound of the cracking of Logan's spine is not just something his horns pick up easily, but also makes the inner workings of Sidurgu's internal ears vibrate more than usual and sets his nerves on edge. An uncomfortable feeling, to say the least.
He thinks he can even feel that crack down to his teeth.
But he breathes, or tries to. Runs fingers through his untamable mop of pale lilac hair. He's still restless despite all the exertion, the rush of adrenaline still so strong in his veins-- and not just adrenaline. Red and black wisps of his dark magic still linger over his skin, around his hands. The fight is over, but Sidurgu's body doesn't seem to understand that.]
Pain in my arse at that, getting me worked up like this.
[He'll never get over just how... disgusting Logan's body and healing ability is. The sound of the cracking of Logan's spine is not just something his horns pick up easily, but also makes the inner workings of Sidurgu's internal ears vibrate more than usual and sets his nerves on edge. An uncomfortable feeling, to say the least.
He thinks he can even feel that crack down to his teeth.
But he breathes, or tries to. Runs fingers through his untamable mop of pale lilac hair. He's still restless despite all the exertion, the rush of adrenaline still so strong in his veins-- and not just adrenaline. Red and black wisps of his dark magic still linger over his skin, around his hands. The fight is over, but Sidurgu's body doesn't seem to understand that.]
Pain in my arse at that, getting me worked up like this.
Mm, as any scholar, I would like to test that myself. You know how it is-- I cant take your word for it, I must see.
[X'rhun slips off his chair, hanging his rapier on his belt, and pads towards Logan. He makes almost no noise despite the steel heels of his boots, and the loudest he makes is the slight creaking of the leather as he crouches down before Logan.
He reaches out and pets Logan under the chin like one would a cat. Ironic, when X'rhun is the feline one here.]
If it truly works the way it should, I can make it worth your time! [Meaning, X'rhun is planning something perverted. He would simply demand to have it called some term other than "perverted".]
[X'rhun slips off his chair, hanging his rapier on his belt, and pads towards Logan. He makes almost no noise despite the steel heels of his boots, and the loudest he makes is the slight creaking of the leather as he crouches down before Logan.
He reaches out and pets Logan under the chin like one would a cat. Ironic, when X'rhun is the feline one here.]
If it truly works the way it should, I can make it worth your time! [Meaning, X'rhun is planning something perverted. He would simply demand to have it called some term other than "perverted".]
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