Logan walked back to his camper-truck after stopping at the gas station for jerky and a piss, hurrying because it was freezing out. There was snow and ice everywhere. Surprise surprise, he'd gotten in an argument with some asshole in the store, and his claws had made an appearance. He really had to stop doing that. Just because he was virtually immortal didn't mean he enjoyed getting stabbed or shot or hit over the head with a tyre-iron. Besides, Storm had berated him less than a month ago about making mutants look bad.
He stopped dead in his tracks when an unfamiliar smell reached his sensitive nose. There was someone in his truck. He hesitated, itching to bring his claws out again, but remembering that time when Rogue had stowed away and hitched a ride with him. If it was another scared mutant kid who'd seen his claws in the store, he didn't need to go making them any more terrified. He approached the truck slowly and cautiously, ignoring the cold now, focusing on what his sharp senses were telling him.
One person, breathing slowly and quietly, in the passenger seat, probably asleep. Something sounded strange about it, but he couldn't quite say how or why. He couldn't see them through the window, but that didn't mean anything. They were probably ducked down. Why in the passenger seat though, why not in the back like Rogue had been if they were hiding from him? It made no sense. He yanked the door open and threw his fist forward, ready to bring his claws out if he needed them, but pulled his hand back as though it had been burned when he saw what was on the seat.
Fuck. Someone had to be a pretty fucked-up parent to leave a baby in his truck of all places.