Logan mindlessly shoveled down his food as his eyes followed the waitress around the restaurant. She had a certain way of moving. Graceful, careful. It was easy for him to get caught up in watching her, and he found himself growing antsy whenever she disappeared back into the kitchen.
“So, I think after the breakfast lecture, we’ll attend the session on . . .” Jean had picked at her food briefly before pulling out her agenda and hilighter once more. Scott leaned into her, pretending to read along.
Logan zoned out all talk of the stupid Mutant Affairs Annual Convention and gulped down the rest of his Canadian lager. “Ahh.” Yet another bonus to having this thing in Alaska.
The waitress appeared at his side almost instantly. How did she do that? “Would ya like another one, sir?”
This time, he tried to lighten his tone, make it a little more teasing. “Now, what did I say about that, darlin’?”
She caught onto his teasing demeanor and managed to tease back, despite the blush that crept over her features. She planted her hands at her hips. “Well, ‘scuse me for havin’ manners. Ya want another beer or not, bucko?”
He just raised an eyebrow. “Yes, ma’am.”
She blushed even harder at that. She looked over the rest of the table. “Can I get y’all anythin’ else?”
“The check,” Jean murmured, not looking up from her papers. “And you can take this.” She gestured to her barely-touched plate as if it were carrion on the side of the road.
The waitress picked up the plate along with Logan’s empty beer. Her scent didn’t turn as upset this time, and Logan couldn’t help feeling a flicker of approval. This one had Jean’s number. She wasn’t going to let some uppity bitch get to her. Good girl. She disappeared back into the kitchen.
Jean turned to Scott. “Cain aye git yawl ennithin’ eltse?” She said between giggles.
Scott laughed. “Poor kid. Probably couldn’t read the road signs. Someone should tell her this is Alaska, not Arkansas.”
Logan just rolled his eyes. What a pair of fucking brats. That was really how they seemed to him sometimes, like bratty little children. They may wear fancy suits and give talks at big conferences, but they just didn’t get it. It was times like this Logan wondered why they talked so much about equality, when they clearly thought they were better than everyone else.
Judging by Ororo’s scent, she wasn’t too happy with her colleagues’ remarks, either. Probably wondering if they made fun of her accent, too.
They did, frequently. But he figured he probably shouldn’t tell her that.
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