[The bike is definitely some retro relic and he has about a billion questions but he's sensing that now is not the time to ask. Mostly because it's so loud, he can barely hear himself think and he's mostly focused on clinging on tight and hoping he's not going to fall off and die.
As they come to a stop at the light, he pulls back just a little bit so he's not quite as clingy and considers what's nearby.]
There's a few diners open at this time. How picky are you?
[Just wondering.] I know a place that does a really good burger. It's near the center of town.
Centre of town, huh. [ He makes some thoughtful noise in the back of his throat. ] How much'd you say you had? Fifteen bucks?
If the diner's got burgers worth less than seven-fifty, I'm up.
[ It's an indirect way of saying he wants Jackson to eat, too. Logan's not a picky guy -- hadn't had the luxury of being picky for over a century -- and that's precisely because food's always been more of a matter of building strength than taking his sweet time enjoying the taste of it.
Hours trapped in a closed, dark space is a special kind of hell. Jackson deserves a burger, at least. ]
[Yes, he sure is rolling in the cash. He would have had more but he didn't expect the night to be like this at all. Not even in his wildest dreams so, yeah, not a very good boyscout.]
Okay, prepare to go left and then keep going straight until I tap you to go right.
[Seemed better than trying to tell him while riding on this thing. It's too loud to even hear himself think and he doesn't want to risk missing a turning or distracting his ride and getting hurt. Responsible driving is key to a happy life.]
I should have enough for dinner and your beer. [Hopefully. He'll check before he decides where. He will keep his side of this deal, even if he has to skip out on a burger and just have friends.]
[ Logan doesn't argue against Jackson's directions. Some voice in the back of his mind taunts him, says something like that's a good soldier, following orders, but the only indication it happens is the slight way he shakes his head in the middle of driving (and even then, it's a single shake -- no more, no less).
They arrive at the diner in one piece. Logan definitely reeks of the dangerous type, sure, but he's not an idiot. Had he known Jackson doubted his driving, he'd have glared at him. ]
This it? [ It probably is. It's the only diner-looking place in this area. ]
[It definitely screams his price range so yeah, no, this is it. He hasn't been here for a while but if he remembers right, it's not going to stretch him past fifteen bucks.
He waits for the bike to be parked before he eases himself off, feeling a little weird not having the hum of that thing as background noise any more.]
Do you ever get like ... I don't know, a headache from that? Or is it like white noise now? [To him, that's an important question.] Did you swallow any bugs? I hear you can swallow a lot of bugs on these things so I didn't open my mouth once. Is that an urban legend or what?
No headaches, yes to the bugs. [ Not wanting Jackson to give him any shit, he claps a hand on the kid's shoulder and gives it a squeeze. To the naked eye it appears like a comforting gesture, but there's an undercurrent of intimidation there. ] But that was a long time ago.
[ Like, the 1940's or so. Logan doesn't say this, either. ]
How are these the first questions you have?
[ Logan's hand slips away as he makes his way into the diner first. It's late enough that there aren't so many people in there, so he has his pick of a booth a little off the centre of the room. A long time ago he was into corners; these days, he finds corners to be just as distracting as the tables you see when you first enter any restaurant. ]
[Yep. He is definitely intimidated. Who's hand is that big and that heavy? For real, this is madness.]
I've never been on a motorbike before, I have questions. I don't know. I would ask about the claw thing but it seems dodgier and I don't want to piss you off.
[Logan is a terrifying guy, he's not sure how to handle him and he's trying his best not to provoke anything. He fumbles to get out his wallet and just double check he has the money. Being a student really doesn't pay for things like super hero rescues and he can't afford to fall at this final hurdle.
Luckily it's all there and accounted for.]
Kind of. I don't know. Lying around doing nothing is kind of my hobby these days. [Hobby. Grief. Same thing. He drops down in his seat and sets his wallet on the table.] Okay so I got sixteen dollars and fifteen cents. Go wild.
[ Logan's definition of "go wild" is probably underwhelming. He raises his hand, flags a waitress, and orders two sets of burgers and fries -- and a beer for himself. Normal. He's not a fucking animal, not really.
But if the kid wants any drinks, he'll have to ask for it himself.
He folds his arms over the top of the table, his attention turning to Jackson for just a moment before he decides maybe that's too overwhelming for him, in turn.
So Logan leans back instead, hands slipping off the table and folding over his belly. It's not like he's made any effort to dispel the generally frightening aura he gives off, but he likes to think he's not that bad.
He's just not got a lot of patience, he thinks. ]
The claws come out between my knuckles. [ A shrug. ] You've seen the comics and things, right? The "snikt" sound's real.
[He laughs a little and makes the sound effect himself a few times because it's a weird sound to try and get right. He supposes the noise the claws make do kind of sound like that. He snorts in an amused way and smiles a little.]
I don't read a lot of comics but I got a few from my -- my boyfriend. [What doesn't know how to label what Theo is any more. He'll stick with that.] They always have those weird sound effects that realistically, you can't make.
[He punches the air in a small little gesture, afraid to cross the invisible line between them just in case. He's not going to get all up in that guy's space.]
When you punch, have you ever made a 'pow' sound? Or a 'thwack'? Isn't a 'thwack' more of a kick anyway? Who decided these noises?
'Pow' doesn't cut it. [ Logan's nose crinkles as he says it, his head shaking from side to side. This time he does look at Jackson properly, the corner of his mouth threatening to twitch into a smile, but his self-control keeps it down. ] 'Thwack' is a little better.
But it depends on where you hit someone.
Hit somewhere fleshy, you get a 'thwack'. Hit somewhere with bone? [ He shrugs. ] That's 'crkkk'.
[ The sound is close to a growl. Logan is, unsurprisingly, very good at making growling, snarling sounds. ]
People hit me where bone is, they'll hear ringing metal instead.
[ Reaching over the table, Logan lets his hand curl into a fist. His claws don't come out, but given the adamantium's been grafted into his knuckles, it'll give the same effect. ]
See, I wouldn't know. I never actually hit anyone. I pushed a kid on a playground once but he didn't make a 'thwack' or a 'crikk'. [He did cry and that is his heroic story of how he defeated his childhood bully but really not the same kind of fighting experience guys like Logan has.] I guess he made a 'thud'.
[He makes the fall gesture with his arm and lightly hits the table as he does so. Like that. Thud.
He pauses and looks up at the offered hand, definitely not wanting to actually hit them because that just seems like a really bad idea. He does, tentatively, knock his knuckles against Logan's curiously.
It definitely isn't the sound of bone hitting bone.] Huh. That's -- wait, so, you're like all metal inside one hundred percent? [Damn.] Wouldn't punching you just hurt like hell in general? Who'd be dumb enough to hit a guy with metal bones? It'd be like picking a fight with a lamp post.
[ Logan's never been called a lamp post before. His expression is surprised for a moment before he looks down at his hand, and then he lets out the smallest 'heh' before pulling his arm back. ]
Not everyone knows my bones are metal. [ They weren't always, but he's not about to touch something as ridiculously complex as his issues with William Stryker in a diner, of all places.
His beer is served up and he thanks the waitress for it. He pops the cap off with his thumb, taking a swig before setting it down on the table.
Indulging Jackson's curiosities seems to at least make the guy more comfortable around him. And, sure, Jackson's comfort isn't his main concern, but... still. ] Everyone seems to think these claws come outta nowhere instead of inside me, for some reason.
I guess it's hard to tell you're metal from a distance. Airport security is a nightmare for you, huh?
[Yes, that is where his mind went. He had so many questions but, for now, he kept them to himself. Most of them were like 'what happens around big magnets' and 'can you break a bone' but they seem like things that have to be more naturally slipped into conversation.
His intentions are good, it's just hard not to ask stupid things. It's not ever day he gets to hang with a guy who has a metal skeleton. It's kind of cool.]
If the blades come out from your body and through your skin, wouldn't it just slice the skin right open? [He leans forward and checks the hand. There's not even a mark right now.] Shouldn't you have like four little cut marks all the time?
I heal. [ A claw juts out half an inch forward -- the one between his index and middle finger -- and then sinks back into his flesh. The cut closes up almost immediately after it disappears. ] Like that.
[ Logan's stopped being irritated by little questions, fortunately. It happens when you've been teaching at a school for a while, especially since history is the sort of thing taught to even the littlest kids who tend to ask everything.
He's answered these things almost a hundred times over, probably. ]
And there're three blades, each hand. [ He snorts. ] Airports let you opt outta the old-school metal detectors, though, with the new high-tech machines. Dunno what they do, but at least they don't fucking beep at me for walking.
[That must be pretty cool. Especially for a guy who played hero, being pretty much that strong and a quick healer? Logan must have been untouchable. Unable to help himself, Jackson grins a little and leans in closer.]
When you say you can heal from anything, are we talking like limbs can grow back? Cause I know some lizard's can regrow their tails and stuff. Is it like that?
[It has to be weird to have claws like that available all the time. It's kind of like being a walking weapon. He can't imagine having that much strength all the time.]
I bet your enemies are so screwed when they wanna mess with you, right? You're like a-a tank or something.
[ To Logan, the lines between human, animal, and weapon blur all the time. And for so long it'd only been the latter two sides of him that mattered. He huffs a laugh at the thought of being a tank, remembers nearly being run over one in the Great War, but inevitably shakes his head. ]
People can stop me, kid. [ He reaches up, tapping at his temple. ] Head injuries take a while to come back from.
[ Imagine being shot in the head and losing consciousness for three whole minutes. Imagine having your skull re-shape itself after having it bashed in, and then having to feel around your head to be sure it's properly head-shaped. ]
Sure, I always come back. And yeah, my limbs grow back. But in war -- [ he stops himself there, backtracking and changing the term ] -- in battles, every second counts.
I've died and woken up to carnage more times than I can count.
[That's almost surreal. He feels a strange clawing feeling inside of him, almost anxious to know more but afraid of what answers he'd get. It's a little uneasy to consider that someone could die, perhaps even have the awareness of dying and come back from it. He wasn't sure if that was a gift or a curse but he sure as hell wished in that moment that Theo had been a mutant who could survive even a bullet to the head.
Maybe then he could survive a drowning.
Maybe then Jackson wouldn't be alone any more, things wouldn't have changed and he wouldn't have had to bury him.]
What does death feel like? [He's wondered about that a lot lately.] Do you know-- did you see anything? Like afterwards.
[ There is a slightly frantic edge to Jackson's tone that Logan's not sure how to deal with, not really. He knows what it means, at least as far as general feeling goes, but he's never been good at being delicate. At being careful with his words.
He receives a few moments' respite when the waitress serves their burgers up, in little plastic baskets with the fries off to the side. Logan considers picking it up, but then supposes... well, he's never had to sugarcoat much before, so why should he start? ]
It's quiet, death. If I die in pain, I wake up in pain until I realise it's all in my head -- like something left from when I was alive -- and it goes away.
Probably not the right guy to ask for this, though. [ Now he really does pick his burger up, unwrapping it with the softest crinkling sounds. ] 'cause every time I die, it never feels like it's time for me.
[ He cocks his head to the side. ] Sometimes it pisses me right off that there's something more I can't get to.
But whether that something more's some kind of afterlife or... just being able to rest after so much time being alive.
I can't answer that.
[ Logan takes his first bite, speaks with his mouth half-full of meat and bread and vegetables: ] Sorry, kid.
[He lets his words die a little as he looks at his food, biting his lower lip and worrying the skin as he tried not to put Logan's experiences on Theo. Like he said, it wasn't the same. He knew he was waking up so it was more like a forced and sometimes painful nap or something. It wasn't a real death.
A real death was final. There was no going back from that. Logan could, he got back up after every time.
What happened to Theo was different. It was final.]
You died a lot then, huh? [He's come this far, he has to ask. He knows Logan will be honest, perhaps brutally so, but in some ways it's comforting. It's not like he'd buy the lying anyway.] Did you ever drown?
[He looks up briefly before losing his nerve and tries to focus on food instead, pretending it's more interesting than it is.]
I read online that you have to breathe so you do but it's water so it's like you're being suffocated. This one guy I looked up said that the only thing more unpleasant than running out of air is breathing in water. [It doesn't sound great. his heart clenches at the idea but he pushes through it.] Some people blackout. I don't know. That sounds nice, I guess.
[ Torture in Japan had been the worst, Logan thinks. But apparently the brutal nature of it isn't enough to stop him from squirting some ketchup into the paper in the basket to dip his fries in, death so common to him it's as if he's speaking of something as casual as an exercise routine. ]
But there was a time, [ his brows furrow ] when I was anchored at the bottom of a river.
[ He almost continues, but a quick glance upward shows Logan that Jackson hasn't even touched his food. To catch his attention, he steals one of his fries, swabbing it in quite a bit of ketchup before popping it into his mouth. ]
You sure we should be talking about this over dinner?
[ It comes out a little gruff, but there's concern there. ]
[It's funny how sometimes you meet people who seem like they've done everything - explored the world, done all these extreme sports, seen all these cool things. And that is kind of what it's like with Logan. Only with death. He's died so many ways and he's only just started talking about this.
Part of him wonders how a guy who dies that often, that painfully, even wants to live.
... But then, how could he die?
Shit. That's messed up.]
When is the best time to talk about death? [Jackson does reach for his food, his pushing through all those negative emotions to try and find something else to focus on. Maybe he'd get his answers later. Maybe.] Cause everyone says that to me a lot and it's just like -- is there ever a good time to talk about this stuff?
A good time is when it doesn't distract you from dinner.
[ Logan rolls his eyes. Death is so common to him it might as well be normal, but the sight of Jackson forgetting the rest of the world to talk about it can't be good.
There're personal feelings there. And Logan doesn't think that bad (or unlikely), but wants to at least keep it as marginally healthy as he can manage. ]
I can talk about it any time, but that burger won't be hot forever.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
As they come to a stop at the light, he pulls back just a little bit so he's not quite as clingy and considers what's nearby.]
There's a few diners open at this time. How picky are you?
[Just wondering.] I know a place that does a really good burger. It's near the center of town.
no subject
If the diner's got burgers worth less than seven-fifty, I'm up.
[ It's an indirect way of saying he wants Jackson to eat, too. Logan's not a picky guy -- hadn't had the luxury of being picky for over a century -- and that's precisely because food's always been more of a matter of building strength than taking his sweet time enjoying the taste of it.
Hours trapped in a closed, dark space is a special kind of hell. Jackson deserves a burger, at least. ]
Lead the way, kid. You point, I follow.
no subject
[Yes, he sure is rolling in the cash. He would have had more but he didn't expect the night to be like this at all. Not even in his wildest dreams so, yeah, not a very good boyscout.]
Okay, prepare to go left and then keep going straight until I tap you to go right.
[Seemed better than trying to tell him while riding on this thing. It's too loud to even hear himself think and he doesn't want to risk missing a turning or distracting his ride and getting hurt. Responsible driving is key to a happy life.]
I should have enough for dinner and your beer. [Hopefully. He'll check before he decides where. He will keep his side of this deal, even if he has to skip out on a burger and just have friends.]
no subject
They arrive at the diner in one piece. Logan definitely reeks of the dangerous type, sure, but he's not an idiot. Had he known Jackson doubted his driving, he'd have glared at him. ]
This it? [ It probably is. It's the only diner-looking place in this area. ]
no subject
[It definitely screams his price range so yeah, no, this is it. He hasn't been here for a while but if he remembers right, it's not going to stretch him past fifteen bucks.
He waits for the bike to be parked before he eases himself off, feeling a little weird not having the hum of that thing as background noise any more.]
Do you ever get like ... I don't know, a headache from that? Or is it like white noise now? [To him, that's an important question.] Did you swallow any bugs? I hear you can swallow a lot of bugs on these things so I didn't open my mouth once. Is that an urban legend or what?
no subject
[ Like, the 1940's or so. Logan doesn't say this, either. ]
How are these the first questions you have?
[ Logan's hand slips away as he makes his way into the diner first. It's late enough that there aren't so many people in there, so he has his pick of a booth a little off the centre of the room. A long time ago he was into corners; these days, he finds corners to be just as distracting as the tables you see when you first enter any restaurant. ]
You must've been bored to death.
no subject
I've never been on a motorbike before, I have questions. I don't know. I would ask about the claw thing but it seems dodgier and I don't want to piss you off.
[Logan is a terrifying guy, he's not sure how to handle him and he's trying his best not to provoke anything. He fumbles to get out his wallet and just double check he has the money. Being a student really doesn't pay for things like super hero rescues and he can't afford to fall at this final hurdle.
Luckily it's all there and accounted for.]
Kind of. I don't know. Lying around doing nothing is kind of my hobby these days. [Hobby. Grief. Same thing. He drops down in his seat and sets his wallet on the table.] Okay so I got sixteen dollars and fifteen cents. Go wild.
no subject
But if the kid wants any drinks, he'll have to ask for it himself.
He folds his arms over the top of the table, his attention turning to Jackson for just a moment before he decides maybe that's too overwhelming for him, in turn.
So Logan leans back instead, hands slipping off the table and folding over his belly. It's not like he's made any effort to dispel the generally frightening aura he gives off, but he likes to think he's not that bad.
He's just not got a lot of patience, he thinks. ]
The claws come out between my knuckles. [ A shrug. ] You've seen the comics and things, right? The "snikt" sound's real.
no subject
[He laughs a little and makes the sound effect himself a few times because it's a weird sound to try and get right. He supposes the noise the claws make do kind of sound like that. He snorts in an amused way and smiles a little.]
I don't read a lot of comics but I got a few from my -- my boyfriend. [What doesn't know how to label what Theo is any more. He'll stick with that.] They always have those weird sound effects that realistically, you can't make.
[He punches the air in a small little gesture, afraid to cross the invisible line between them just in case. He's not going to get all up in that guy's space.]
When you punch, have you ever made a 'pow' sound? Or a 'thwack'? Isn't a 'thwack' more of a kick anyway? Who decided these noises?
no subject
But it depends on where you hit someone.
Hit somewhere fleshy, you get a 'thwack'. Hit somewhere with bone? [ He shrugs. ] That's 'crkkk'.
[ The sound is close to a growl. Logan is, unsurprisingly, very good at making growling, snarling sounds. ]
People hit me where bone is, they'll hear ringing metal instead.
[ Reaching over the table, Logan lets his hand curl into a fist. His claws don't come out, but given the adamantium's been grafted into his knuckles, it'll give the same effect. ]
Go on, knock 'em.
no subject
[He makes the fall gesture with his arm and lightly hits the table as he does so. Like that. Thud.
He pauses and looks up at the offered hand, definitely not wanting to actually hit them because that just seems like a really bad idea. He does, tentatively, knock his knuckles against Logan's curiously.
It definitely isn't the sound of bone hitting bone.] Huh. That's -- wait, so, you're like all metal inside one hundred percent? [Damn.] Wouldn't punching you just hurt like hell in general? Who'd be dumb enough to hit a guy with metal bones? It'd be like picking a fight with a lamp post.
A lamp post that also hits back.
no subject
Not everyone knows my bones are metal. [ They weren't always, but he's not about to touch something as ridiculously complex as his issues with William Stryker in a diner, of all places.
His beer is served up and he thanks the waitress for it. He pops the cap off with his thumb, taking a swig before setting it down on the table.
Indulging Jackson's curiosities seems to at least make the guy more comfortable around him. And, sure, Jackson's comfort isn't his main concern, but... still. ] Everyone seems to think these claws come outta nowhere instead of inside me, for some reason.
no subject
[Yes, that is where his mind went. He had so many questions but, for now, he kept them to himself. Most of them were like 'what happens around big magnets' and 'can you break a bone' but they seem like things that have to be more naturally slipped into conversation.
His intentions are good, it's just hard not to ask stupid things. It's not ever day he gets to hang with a guy who has a metal skeleton. It's kind of cool.]
If the blades come out from your body and through your skin, wouldn't it just slice the skin right open? [He leans forward and checks the hand. There's not even a mark right now.] Shouldn't you have like four little cut marks all the time?
no subject
[ Logan's stopped being irritated by little questions, fortunately. It happens when you've been teaching at a school for a while, especially since history is the sort of thing taught to even the littlest kids who tend to ask everything.
He's answered these things almost a hundred times over, probably. ]
And there're three blades, each hand. [ He snorts. ] Airports let you opt outta the old-school metal detectors, though, with the new high-tech machines. Dunno what they do, but at least they don't fucking beep at me for walking.
no subject
[That must be pretty cool. Especially for a guy who played hero, being pretty much that strong and a quick healer? Logan must have been untouchable. Unable to help himself, Jackson grins a little and leans in closer.]
When you say you can heal from anything, are we talking like limbs can grow back? Cause I know some lizard's can regrow their tails and stuff. Is it like that?
[It has to be weird to have claws like that available all the time. It's kind of like being a walking weapon. He can't imagine having that much strength all the time.]
I bet your enemies are so screwed when they wanna mess with you, right? You're like a-a tank or something.
no subject
People can stop me, kid. [ He reaches up, tapping at his temple. ] Head injuries take a while to come back from.
[ Imagine being shot in the head and losing consciousness for three whole minutes. Imagine having your skull re-shape itself after having it bashed in, and then having to feel around your head to be sure it's properly head-shaped. ]
Sure, I always come back. And yeah, my limbs grow back. But in war -- [ he stops himself there, backtracking and changing the term ] -- in battles, every second counts.
I've died and woken up to carnage more times than I can count.
Ain't ever a pretty sight.
no subject
[That's almost surreal. He feels a strange clawing feeling inside of him, almost anxious to know more but afraid of what answers he'd get. It's a little uneasy to consider that someone could die, perhaps even have the awareness of dying and come back from it. He wasn't sure if that was a gift or a curse but he sure as hell wished in that moment that Theo had been a mutant who could survive even a bullet to the head.
Maybe then he could survive a drowning.
Maybe then Jackson wouldn't be alone any more, things wouldn't have changed and he wouldn't have had to bury him.]
What does death feel like? [He's wondered about that a lot lately.] Do you know-- did you see anything? Like afterwards.
jackson bABY
He receives a few moments' respite when the waitress serves their burgers up, in little plastic baskets with the fries off to the side. Logan considers picking it up, but then supposes... well, he's never had to sugarcoat much before, so why should he start? ]
It's quiet, death. If I die in pain, I wake up in pain until I realise it's all in my head -- like something left from when I was alive -- and it goes away.
Probably not the right guy to ask for this, though. [ Now he really does pick his burger up, unwrapping it with the softest crinkling sounds. ] 'cause every time I die, it never feels like it's time for me.
[ He cocks his head to the side. ] Sometimes it pisses me right off that there's something more I can't get to.
But whether that something more's some kind of afterlife or... just being able to rest after so much time being alive.
I can't answer that.
[ Logan takes his first bite, speaks with his mouth half-full of meat and bread and vegetables: ] Sorry, kid.
enjoy the uncomfortable questions!
[He lets his words die a little as he looks at his food, biting his lower lip and worrying the skin as he tried not to put Logan's experiences on Theo. Like he said, it wasn't the same. He knew he was waking up so it was more like a forced and sometimes painful nap or something. It wasn't a real death.
A real death was final. There was no going back from that. Logan could, he got back up after every time.
What happened to Theo was different. It was final.]
You died a lot then, huh? [He's come this far, he has to ask. He knows Logan will be honest, perhaps brutally so, but in some ways it's comforting. It's not like he'd buy the lying anyway.] Did you ever drown?
[He looks up briefly before losing his nerve and tries to focus on food instead, pretending it's more interesting than it is.]
I read online that you have to breathe so you do but it's water so it's like you're being suffocated. This one guy I looked up said that the only thing more unpleasant than running out of air is breathing in water. [It doesn't sound great. his heart clenches at the idea but he pushes through it.] Some people blackout. I don't know. That sounds nice, I guess.
no subject
[ Torture in Japan had been the worst, Logan thinks. But apparently the brutal nature of it isn't enough to stop him from squirting some ketchup into the paper in the basket to dip his fries in, death so common to him it's as if he's speaking of something as casual as an exercise routine. ]
But there was a time, [ his brows furrow ] when I was anchored at the bottom of a river.
[ He almost continues, but a quick glance upward shows Logan that Jackson hasn't even touched his food. To catch his attention, he steals one of his fries, swabbing it in quite a bit of ketchup before popping it into his mouth. ]
You sure we should be talking about this over dinner?
[ It comes out a little gruff, but there's concern there. ]
no subject
[It's funny how sometimes you meet people who seem like they've done everything - explored the world, done all these extreme sports, seen all these cool things. And that is kind of what it's like with Logan. Only with death. He's died so many ways and he's only just started talking about this.
Part of him wonders how a guy who dies that often, that painfully, even wants to live.
... But then, how could he die?
Shit. That's messed up.]
When is the best time to talk about death? [Jackson does reach for his food, his pushing through all those negative emotions to try and find something else to focus on. Maybe he'd get his answers later. Maybe.] Cause everyone says that to me a lot and it's just like -- is there ever a good time to talk about this stuff?
no subject
[ Logan rolls his eyes. Death is so common to him it might as well be normal, but the sight of Jackson forgetting the rest of the world to talk about it can't be good.
There're personal feelings there. And Logan doesn't think that bad (or unlikely), but wants to at least keep it as marginally healthy as he can manage. ]
I can talk about it any time, but that burger won't be hot forever.