Summary:Rogue and Logan bump into one another for the second time Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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It's been… an interesting few days. Hanging out with an old friend, checking out possible employers, staying in a hotel and just.. not having work and Xavier's stuff to handle every day. It's restful, and annoying all at once. She's struck out on her own this evening, hair still all pretty and well styled from her interview from this afternoon, but the clothes are casual. There's a silky hunter green button down paired with snug jeans and actual heeled boots and not her work ones. Lips are red, and eyes are still made up from making herself 'pretty' from her interview. She'll find a seat open in a small group of empty stools, and set her phone on the bar as she orders herself a bourbon, double and neat.
Logan makes his way out of the restroom. He rolls his shoulders and ambles toward the bar and the seat he vacated there a minute or two ago. As he approaches the cushioned stooltop still dented from his rear, his pace slows. He sniffs faintly, the sound lost amid the hubbub of a bar in full swing. He sighed. Still, his drink was sitting on the bar, half-drunk. He wasn't about to leave it, so he strode up and plunked himself down on the seat. "If it ain't Sluggo. How ya doin', champ?" he rumbles.
Rogue will turn her head, those green eyes glancing over him. "Hey there, Grumpy. Having another great night?" She'll offer a smile, sliding onto her stool. There's a smile for the bartender as she slides money across the bar in trade for her drink. There's a long sip of bourbon, eyes closing at the feel of the familiar burn, an easing of a little bit of the tension in her shoulders.
"Livin' the dream," he answers with a sidelong glance at the woman. He curls his hand around his glass of beer and smirks slightly. "Lots of cops here," he notes. "Best not start any shit." Of course, she didn't start things last time, but that won't get in the way of Logan ribbing her. He takes a draught of his beer, considering Rogue for a long moment. "You said your name last time," he notes. "Can't remember what it was."
"Oh, sure looks like it. Champagne and caviar dreams, clearly." She will lean against the bar with her forearms, stretching and arching her back to get it to pop. "Rogue. And yours?"
"Logan," he answers, smirking slightly at her comments about champagne and caviar dreams. He lets that slide. Instead, he rests an elbow on the bartop, taking a slow drink of his beer and considering the brunette. "Rogue's a hell of a name," he comments with a broad, wolfish smile.
"Well, I'm a hell of a woman." She says, matching his smile with a mischevious one of her own. "It's a nickname, really, but it's more me than my given name, so.. it is what it is." There's a raise and drop of her right shoulder, as she signals the bartender for a couple of beers, one for a chaser for her, and one for him. "I'm a little unpredictable, so it fits. You named after Logan's run, or something?"
Logan smirks with seemingly genuine amusement at her retort. He lifts his glass to her in a silent toast and he answers, "Gotta love the confidence, at least." He drains his glass and sets it aside, given that she's just ordered him another. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and he smirks at the question. "Nah. Not as far as I know," he answers. "Probably the dog or somethin'." If only he knew.
"Confidence comes from experience." She will say with that drawl and a smirk, tossing back bourbon like a pro. Of course, she looks to young to have all that much experience. She will chuckle, a sidelong look at him. "Funny. I'm sure Logan means something awesome." Her grin draws out her dimple, there and gone like a wink. "So this is twice, two different bars. What is it Logan does to range so far and wide?"
"A love of booze and an ability to wear out my welcome," he answers easily, nodding toward the bartender as the next pints are set down in front of them. He half-turns on his stool, leaning his side against the rail of the bar and generally exhibiting poor posture. "What about you?" he replies. Nodding down to her state of dress, he notes, "You got fancied up."
"I'm just poking around the city. I've lived north of the city for a while, but I haven't explored it much since I moved up there. " She chuckles, a glance down. "You mean the hair and makeup. Yeah, did some interviews today. Putting out some feelers. It's not what you're supposed to do on vacation, I know, but I think it's time to change it up." She will sip beer, doing the half turn back to face him.
"Oh yeah," Logan answers conversationally to the news that she lived north for a time. He lofts a brow and he grunts in acknowledgement of what she says. "Movin' to the city to change it up. Gotcha. So what kinda work you do?" he asks.
"Just need a change. I think a lot of people need that sometimes. I'm just.. making a big one." She sips her beer, looking at him. "I'm a mechanic. Cars, trucks, smaller engines. Nothing exciting." Except for the fact she's not what someone might picture for a mechanic.
He gives her a once-over at the news of her vocation, processing his expectation against the reality. "Didn't figure mechanics got all dolled up for interviews. Guess you can't be in the coveralls all the time though," he notes with another shrug. He takes a draught of his beer then, his eyes back on hers. "So why the change? Just.. feelin' grass growin' between your toes?"
"More like roommate was just … getting on my nerves." She's not sure the best way to put the living situation at the mansion, so she'll fudge it a bit, but not enough to be picked up as a lie. "Thought he was a nice guy, but.. I should know better." She smirks. "Time to get some distance with old friends, make some new ones." There's another careless little one shouldered shrug. "You like whiskey, right? I'm gonna order us some shots." As she moves to lean over the bar to get the tender's attention, her phone will buzz, the screen lighting up with a text from "Sunglasses at Night", about checking in.
Logan grunts and nods. "Best thing's not to have a roommate," he observes. "People don't do nothin' but let ya down, sooner or later." He pauses at that, frowning, considering whether it was too much, when the buzz of her phone attracts his eye. The name on it makes his brow loft slightly. Discretely, he leans a little nearer to her while she focuses on ordering. He sniffs more carefully, seeking the hint of a familiar scent on her. Something from the last day or two, perhaps he might be able to catch…
Rogue hasn't seen Scott in almost a week, but she'd worn her coveralls earlier that day, that he'd rubbed up against last time they were working in the garage. She will sit back down, a glance at her phone as she pushes the button to make it light up to see why it buzzed. There's a face made. "Oh jesus, you're not my den mother, Scooter." So she ignores it, as the shots arrive. "Some people just don't want to accept that you want to do your own thing, away from them."
There was a faint scent, now that he took a closer sniff. There was the name on the phone. And the petname. And her performance in the barroom brawl. He straightens in his seat, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully as he gives her another once-over, this time far more appraising. "You movin' out of the Institute, huh?" he ventures. "Can't say I blame ya."
She's moving to hand him the shot, when he asks that. There's a faint jolt, green eyes widening just that touch, as tension and wariness slide over her like a second skin, but she doesn't spill a drop. "And just what do you know, Mister Logan? "
"I met a couple of people from there… or at least one. I figure two. Kinda… put it all together." He traces a lazy circle with one finger, even as he reaches out for the whiskey she holds. "The two I met seem kinda like dipshits," he notes. "Though hopefully you don't mean t'blow me up or whatever for sayin' so. Seems the way they operate."
"Dipshits? Some people need to remove their heads from their asses. If you figured it out from my phone, then you've met Scott. If you met Scott, you probably met … hmm. Jeannie." She shrugs, holding up her own shot. "I don't have anything flashy, like either of them." She will tip back her shot, click the glass to the bar. "He takes himself too seriously by half, and she… well, she's a college girl on top of everything else."
Logan snappoints at the deduction she makes. He lightly takes the shotglass from her and holds it ready to drink, though he at least has the decency to wait for her to be ready as well. So that they can take their shots together before he slaps his empty down on the bar. He sighs in contentment before he appends, with a dismissive hand, "Fuck both of 'em and, sorry for sayin' so, any Institute they're part of."
"It's not so bad, really. The school is really.. it's a haven. I was a kid, living on the streets. Afraid of what I did, who I could hurt.." Her shoulder lifts and falls. "They took me in, got me through high school, even some college, before I decided on trade school and being a mechanic. They've helped a lot of… us, that way." Green eyes will watch him. "Scott's going through this whole new dating thing, and he's probably not his best. He's been a solid guy, in the past, if a little too protective. Not of me, I can handle myself, but.."
Logan considers that and gives a grunt. "All right. Won't throw the whole place in the trash heap then," he decides, albeit reluctantly. The black-and-white is so much easier. He turns toward the bartender and waves him down, gesturing for a couple more shots. Then his focus is back on Rogue, who he considers for a moment. "Jean talked a good game the first time I met her. She had me thinkin' I was gonna go meet your Headmaster, talk over some shit. But… I think I'm gonna pass on that now."
Rogue blinks. "The Professor?" She asks, a little surprised. "He.. he pretty much saved my life. He's a good, good man, and I don't say that about most folks." She says quietly. "Don't let a couple of currently struggling, not usually not quite so moronic apples, scare you away from the whole bushel." She looks down at her hands, well scrubbed, a bit marked from her work. "Without the Professor, I would literally not be sitting here."
"Oh, he's a professor? I didn't get any details. Just that he's the Headmaster over there." He shrugs and takes a drink of his beer, still left on the counter as a chaser, or a filler between shots of whiskey. "I was pretty on the fence about it. Don't matter, I'm doin' all right. Let him focus on kids who need him." Living in his van and scraping together odd jobs, drinking away almost all of what he makes.
Rogue will reach out, and for the first time, touch him. "If you need help, the Professor can and will. He really wants to help..people like us." That's said softly, her hand light as a butterfly against his arm. "If you end up changing your mind, I mean."
Logan gives a small snort at that, not quite a laugh, but almost. He cants his head to the side slightly and dips his chin. In a bid to convey the honesty of his position, he assures her, "I'm fine. I don't need the help. Was just… Jean talkin' a good game at first."
"Jean has a lot of lofty ideals. She wants to fix everyone, even if she can't, or shouldn't. Psych majors, am I right?" She smirks. "You look like you're getting by, but seriously. The Professor is one of the good ones." She shrugs. "So what is it Logan does, that put him in contact with Red?"
"Labour work," he answers off-handedly. It's not the full story, but it's more or less true. "Odd jobs 'n that," provides a more complete elaboration. He gives an answering shrug, amiable enough, when it comes to psych majors. Not that he has much experience. That he knows about. "Ran into her at a park," he explains off-handedly. "Figure I should be able to avoid her goin' forward."
Rogue nods. "I hear you there. I used to try to do that, when I didn't have anywhere to go. No one much wanted to hire a scrawy teenager, though." She smiles. "Well, if you want to, you seem like a man who has an idea of what he's about. But if you do change your mind.. I can always keep her away and let you meet the man."
Logan watches her over the rim of his glass as he takes another drink of his beer. Finally, he sets it down and declares, "You're all right, Rogue. I had you wrong after the first meetin'." He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. As for the offer about Xavier? "I'll let ya know."
There's a laugh, the belle's head tipping back a bit. "I was.. a little out of my usual sorts, the first night we met. I needed to blow off some steam. I shoulda hit the gym, but they say hindsight is always 20/20." She sips her beer, looking at him. "All right. You want a number or somethin' in case you want to catch a beer sometime?"
Logan considers her for a moment once more, then nods once. "Smooth one," he jibes with a wry grin. "Yeah, I'll take that number." He draws out his cellphone - a burner - and starts the process of inputting her number. No need for cocktail napkins with scrawled digits, not in this day and age!
Rogue smirks at him. "Hey, I'm not perfect. Sometimes a bar fight just feels right. You can take the girl off the streets, can't always take the street scrapping out of the girl." Green eyes almost glow with amusement, as he puts her number in.
"Preachin' to the choir," he answers after getting her number. He even texts it straight away so that she has his contact information (at least at the moment) as well. The message? Hell of a woman, it's the dog or something. He relates all the while, "Just been in more'n my share, I guess. Bloom's off that rose for me."
Rogue laughs at that message, tucking hair behind her ear. "I've been in more than a few, but sometimes when you can't punch the one who deserves it.. it's the next best thing."
Logan grunts non-commitally to that, but doesn't argue the point. He takes another drink from his beer and he asks, "So what part of town you puttin' roots in, you figure?"
"I'm not sure yet. I have an old friend who needs a roommate, the damn city is so expensive. I'm considering it, he's a laidback guy, we get on well enough. Have my own space, that sort of thing. But I haven't totally sold myself on it."
"So long as you lay the groundrules ahead of time," cautions Logan, "And so long as he won't irritate the fuck out of you by where he leaves dirty socks or whatever, could work. Where's his place at?"
Rogue gives a neighborhood name, it's not the best, but it's not the worst, either. She sips at her beer, chuckling. "I lived at a school with a bunch of adolescents. If dirty socks bothered me, I would have strangled one of them by now."
Logan nods in acceptance and apparent approval of the neighbourhood. "Ah, good," he replies. "Don't wanna have to use those bar-fightin' skills on the poor slob." He cracks a crooked grin and then moves to finish his beer.
She chuckles, giving him a grin to match his. "Naw. He knows I could take him." There's a wink shot his way. "We go way back, Dax and I. He knows you don't mess with Rogue."
Logan nods slowly and grins at that. "Somehow I'm sure you'll keep him in his place," he answers, his tone reflecting the certitude of the thought. He sets the empty glass down on the bar surface and cranes his head to one side, popping some vertebrae in his neck. "So what's the rest of the night lookin' like for ya?" he asks.
"I always find a way to keep a man from getting too out of line." She laughs, polishing off her beer. "Oh, prowling. Maybe another bar, maybe something to eat. Find somewhere to shoot some pool or play some darts, maybe. You?"
Logan shrugs. "Oh… I dunno," he answers. "Gettin' light. I should probably call it soon." He lifts a hip to fish into the pocket of his jeans and produce a few crumpled bills. He can't cover it all, but he can cover some of the tab they've racked up.
Rogue will lift a hand, scootching his money back towards him. "Consider this reparation for dipshits who clearly didn't talk to you right. Wanna go grab a burger?"
Logan looks down at the bartop and then over at Rogue. His brow furrows, while one eyebrow expressively quirks upward slightly. It is a skeptical, inquisitive look. "All right, if you wanna be a big spender while you don't have a job," he answers dubiously. "I can at least get the burgers then."
Rogue laughs. "I have a job, still. I'm on vacation. I've got this." She will move to put more money on the bar, with a decent sized tip. Phone slides into her pocket, a tip of her head, arch of her brow. "You know somewhere around here we can get a good one?"
Logan scratches at his chin. "Yeah… yeah," he answers. A side effect of not owning a kitchen means you become familiar with a lot of cheap fast food options all around the city. He sweeps his gaze across the bartop and then pushes himself up from the stool. "Let's go grab somethin' greasy," he says as he begins to lead the way out.