For the past days after the Liberty incident Jean and Scott had proven more than useful guiding them through the various quirks of the bonding. Both had given their opinions and experiences, as well as advice born from experience of how to control the bond and the amount of feelings and personal thoughts admitted through it. To Marie’s surprise it was Logan who was quickly gaining the upper hand when it came to learning how to actually use the bond. And to her relief he hadn’t used it to extract his revenge of what happened when he had lain unconscious in the med lab. On the contrary, he seemed to avoid using the bond, and his mutations when it came to tracking her down. Truth to be told she was getting tired of the game they had been playing. If he wasn’t going to jump on her soon, there was no other possibility than sneak up on him and molest him to where he stood.
“Like it’s going to happen…” She huffed, grimacing to her image in the mirror to check that none of her lipstick had gotten to her teeth. Her jumping on Logan was as likely to happen as Logan proclaiming in public that he was the number one fan of the Village People. Hell would freeze over ten times before he was ready to come out of the closet on that particular subject.
She paced back and forth restlessly, her gaze fixed to the clock on the wall above her bed. She was already almost an hour late. Everybody had encouraged her to come. Now she was getting second thoughts. After all, she was the one Magneto had needed to complete his plan. She had been the last piece to his machine. What would people think about her? How would they react her walking amidst them?
“Jeesh… This is ridiculous…” She walked to the door, and stopped, hand hovering over the doorknob. She let her shields slide a bit. Maybe Logan could help her.
It was only a quick peek, but it felt like Logan was actually having fun. Drunk? Definitely. Sulking? Definitely not. She had felt only warm amusement flooding through. Feeling that felt totally alien coming from him. She couldn’t help wondering what he was up to.
“Well, there’s only one way to find it out…” She sighed, braced herself and pushed the door open.
He felt Marie brush against him briefly. Nervous. Anxious. Insecure. But he was having far too good time with the unlucky reporter to care. Man was currently hiding behind a potted plant.
“Wolverine, leave the poor man alone.” He turned his gaze from his prey to professor Xavier.
“I’m conducting a scientific experiment.”
“Scientific experiment? About what, if I may ask?” Professor queried, slight smile tugging the corner of his mouth.
“How much does it take to make one, hardened reporter to piss his pants. And I have a feeling I’m getting closer and closer the breakthrough.”
“You’re a mean drunk, Wolverine. Just try to see that he isn’t standing on a carpet when that happens. I got them cleaned for this event,” Xavier said, wheeling to the general direction of the bar, leaving the poor reporter to the mercy of the Wolverine.
“Couldn’t help noticing… You look a little lost. Haven’t found anybody to pester yet?” Logan whispered, biting his cheek to keep the wide grin from spreading on his face when reporter squeaked and spun around facing him, shivering in his shoes.
“M… Mmm… Mr. Wolverine…So good to see you again…”
“Not so good to see you again. But what the fuck… Come on. You look like you could use a drink,” Logan grunted, taking a firm hold from reporter’s arm and tugging the man after him, towards the bar.
“But… This is not… I’m working…”
“Shut it, dipshit. I’m bored. Entertain me.”
“Uh… Entertain…?”
“Yeah. Two whiskeys, straight,” Logan asked from the bartender and leaned against the counter. Reporter hovered nervously next to him. Wouldn’t take long now. He took the tumblers bartender placed in front of him and turned to reporter, handing one of them to him. Reporter took the tumbler with shaky hand, eyes darting between Logan and the wide open doors of the ballroom. Logan checked quickly. Nope. No carpet. Just polished wooden floor. Time to end this. He raised his tumbler. Reporter mimicked his move reluctantly.
“I like my whiskey straight, and my mates queer!”
Marie was nearly run over by a young man carrying a camera around his neck when she entered to the ballroom. Logan was standing at the bar, one hand braced on top of the counter, other holding a tumbler of whiskey, laughing his ass off.
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