[Yeah, not reassuring still though. This is almost as terrifying as dying here and being known as that dumbass who died in his car trunk being an idiot. But what choice does he have to avoid that fate?
He knocks above where his head is and then kicks up, as ordered.]
[ Logan's never had experience picking a lock, but he's had experience tearing doors open. In that light, he uses the claws of one hand to cut a proper rectangle on the top of the trunk, starting roughly from where he assumes the top of Jackson's head is and then moving down two-thirds' of the way towards the kick.
He's careful the claws don't push down too deep, but bends his wrist just enough to jimmy the newly-cut shape out and pop it up towards his free hand. It's dropped without care to the ground by Logan's feet.
His expression isn't amused, obviously, but at least Jackson can sit up now. ]
Shit! [Nothing is creepier than seeing what was basically a ridic sharp knife/claw thing rip through metal above him. He ducks down and tries to cover his head, just in case something goes wrong. By the time it's over, he can't help but stare up uneasily and little on edge.
Maybe that was also down to the very stern look he's getting from Logan.
Jesus, that look.]
As far as I know, yeah. I'm good. [He slowly sits up and pats himself down, a sheepish look on his face.] Heeeeey, man. 'Sup?
I'm standing in the cold is what's up. [ He's a hot-blooded guy, though. Logan holds a hand out, clawless; it feels a little bit like bailing one of the kids at school out from whatever ridiculous nonsense they tend to get into, only Jackson's not here because of teleportation gone wrong or anything like that.
Also, Logan's not getting paid. But that's what the food is for. ] How long've you been in there?
[ For all his calling Jackson a moron, his questions betray at least some worry. ]
I don't know, like three hours or something. I wasted like the first hour trying to pick the lock. [It didn't work, shockingly, because he didn't know how to pick a lock and you can't just magically learn from googling it, apparently. Especially if you have no tools.]
I didn't really have anyone to text who lived close enough to help. It was either you or the cops and that would have been a whole thing. [Involving the cops was not a good idea ever. Even he knew that.
He takes the hand and hauls himself out of the boot, landing on his feet and crossing his arms to keep warm. Ironically, the coat hadn't even been in the trunk but he wasn't going to draw attention to that point.] So, er, I take it you got a ride of your own? Cause mine is kinda -- I don't know. Can I drive with a chunk of my trunk missing?
If you're trying to avoid the cops, I wouldn't suggest it.
[ Logan does, however, have a ride -- a sturdy, big motorbike with its engine killed not too far away from where the parked car is. He didn't bring a helmet or anything, given the whole adamantium skull business, but it's all he's got. ]
You scared of bikes? [ And then, shrugging his jacket off (it's leather and old), he hands it out. ] 'cause I don't got the cash for a taxi.
[He doesn't have much of an option here. He slips his phone into his back pocket and takes the jacket, looking it over a little with a small frown. He can't say he has strong feelings on bikes either way but going on one without a helmet is a little terrifying. He doesn't like taking risks, not after everything with Theo. It's so easy to end up dead but -- well, he doesn't want to stay stranded here.
He slips the jacket on and shrugs.] I'm way more breakable. So. I'm trusting you. [Again.] Drive safe.
[ It matters because Logan could've always knocked Jackson out before driving with him.
Fortunately, the acquiesce means that all he does is hook a leg over the bike and wait for Jackson's tell-tale grip around him. ] Yeah, kid, [ an eyeroll ] driving safe kind of goes without saying. [ Then he's moving in no time, the engine under them purring sweetly.
The bike's pretty old; ask Logan if he's sentimental and he'll say he isn't, but he owns a million things from the past, anyway. They're just more familiar to him, though people tend to assume it's part of his "old man persona". He doesn't give enough of a shit to correct them.
The ride is silent until they're back in the city, waiting at a red light. ]
[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.
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The kid is still a moron. But he'll stop rubbing it in... for now. ]
How much do you value your car being in one piece?
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But, er, I do value myself being in one piece so keep that in mind.
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Knock on the top close to where your head is, then kick up.
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[Yeah, not reassuring still though. This is almost as terrifying as dying here and being known as that dumbass who died in his car trunk being an idiot. But what choice does he have to avoid that fate?
He knocks above where his head is and then kicks up, as ordered.]
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He's careful the claws don't push down too deep, but bends his wrist just enough to jimmy the newly-cut shape out and pop it up towards his free hand. It's dropped without care to the ground by Logan's feet.
His expression isn't amused, obviously, but at least Jackson can sit up now. ]
Still in one piece?
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Maybe that was also down to the very stern look he's getting from Logan.
Jesus, that look.]
As far as I know, yeah. I'm good. [He slowly sits up and pats himself down, a sheepish look on his face.] Heeeeey, man. 'Sup?
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Also, Logan's not getting paid. But that's what the food is for. ] How long've you been in there?
[ For all his calling Jackson a moron, his questions betray at least some worry. ]
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I didn't really have anyone to text who lived close enough to help. It was either you or the cops and that would have been a whole thing. [Involving the cops was not a good idea ever. Even he knew that.
He takes the hand and hauls himself out of the boot, landing on his feet and crossing his arms to keep warm. Ironically, the coat hadn't even been in the trunk but he wasn't going to draw attention to that point.] So, er, I take it you got a ride of your own? Cause mine is kinda -- I don't know. Can I drive with a chunk of my trunk missing?
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[ Logan does, however, have a ride -- a sturdy, big motorbike with its engine killed not too far away from where the parked car is. He didn't bring a helmet or anything, given the whole adamantium skull business, but it's all he's got. ]
You scared of bikes? [ And then, shrugging his jacket off (it's leather and old), he hands it out. ] 'cause I don't got the cash for a taxi.
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[He doesn't have much of an option here. He slips his phone into his back pocket and takes the jacket, looking it over a little with a small frown. He can't say he has strong feelings on bikes either way but going on one without a helmet is a little terrifying. He doesn't like taking risks, not after everything with Theo. It's so easy to end up dead but -- well, he doesn't want to stay stranded here.
He slips the jacket on and shrugs.] I'm way more breakable. So. I'm trusting you. [Again.] Drive safe.
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Fortunately, the acquiesce means that all he does is hook a leg over the bike and wait for Jackson's tell-tale grip around him. ] Yeah, kid, [ an eyeroll ] driving safe kind of goes without saying. [ Then he's moving in no time, the engine under them purring sweetly.
The bike's pretty old; ask Logan if he's sentimental and he'll say he isn't, but he owns a million things from the past, anyway. They're just more familiar to him, though people tend to assume it's part of his "old man persona". He doesn't give enough of a shit to correct them.
The ride is silent until they're back in the city, waiting at a red light. ]
So, where're you buying me dinner?
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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.
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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.
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[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.]
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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. ]
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[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?
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[ 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.
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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.
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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.
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[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?
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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.
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[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.
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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.
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[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?
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[ 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.
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jackson bABY
enjoy the uncomfortable questions!
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