"Mwister Wuvereen?"

"Huh? - Everything okay kid?"

With a slight shake of his head, it quickly became apparent the kid was embarrassed, a rosy tinge flushing across his cheeks as his glance shifted down to his feet. "I had a accident."

Sighing deeply, Logan promptly extinguished his freshly lit cigar. A somewhat strained smile pulled at his features as he faced the small child, noting the dampness seeping down his pants. "Okay, Scotty ... Let's get you cleaned up."

This would be the part where Logan would undeniably inform you that 'Karma' screwed him over. A man of his stature would never openly admit that his current situation was down to any fault of his own.

– / X-Men \ –

It was becoming a top priority within the school to improve the falling moral. With seasonal changes and upcoming examinations, tempers had begun wearing thin, leading to an adverse increase in stress levels. A prime example would be, the recent and highly unprofessional situation of one, Logan Howlett, barging into a mathematics class; taught by the X-men leader, Scott Summers. His colourful language, while calling him an utter fool, was the least of anyone's worries, however, the tight hold around his throat ... The students graciously thanked their 'stars and garters' that Dr McCoy was around to /respectfully/ prise the Wolverine from the surprisingly shaken teacher.

At this point the precarious relationship between the two boarded upon legendary; 'almost' feasible enough to be considered a suitable ice breaker for an uncomfortable yet compulsory meet and greets. It was a particular favourite of Tony Starks. So with the morning already witnessing the pair at each other's throats, observing Scott still palming out the dishevelled look from his shirt was overlooked as was, what could only be described as a smug expressing gracing the wolverines features.

Sitting away from any inquisitive glances, the young leader gazed absently out the window, he didn't require a physic talent to understand they 'could be' questioning his ability, allowing one unruly X-men to get the better of him.

"Coffee?"

It took a moment registering for Scott's glance to met with the steaming beverage, his peripheral vision quickly took priority from that to pick up on the subtle motion of material being nervously tugged and balled under clenched fingers.

"I - I was asked to bring this to you - milk with half a teaspoon of sugar, apparently the way you like it?"

The attendant was Aimee Black or 'Glitch' as was her preferred name, she was a new addition to the school, a shy, mature student showing an interest in history and famous crime thriller authors. While her ability, was an unusually rare talent adjusting timelines and de-materialising in a manner similar to that of Kurt.

"Erm - yeah ... Thank you"

Summers permitted himself to hold onto the assumption that the liquid offering was a caring gesture from Ororo, subtly encouraging him to converse with newer members of the team. Gesturing towards the chair opposite Scott openly shared his trademarked 'sided' smile while subconsciously catching bits of surrounding conversation; some of which were hardly appropriate for the time of day.

"Glitch isn't it? I'm ..."

"Scott Summers ..." the words almost seeming to leave the others mouth far too quickly "Or …Cyclops depending on who you speak to. Storm and Hank have been so nice telling me all about you."

His smile tightened, revealing the rare suggestion of insecurity, the steam continuing to rise between them creating almost hypnotic, spiralling patterns. The gentle clink of the ceramic cup resting upon the table fell lost within the background chatter.

"So ... I hear you've an interest in periodic history – any specific era?" The conversation was simple and relaxed, though Scott had inadvertently discovered the reasoning behind the unusual nickname of his newer companion; catching a brief flicker resembling sudden static. With reassurance filling his tone he was quick to embellish the remaining anxiety and soon enough the two were talking as age-old associates would.

"Oh, I almost forgot ..." Reaching into her pocket, Glitch handed over a small crumpled piece of paper. "I was asked if I'd give you this"

Written upon the paper read -

' When we don't know who to hate, we hate ourselves.'

The scrawled writing alone gave a face to the otherwise anonymous sender not to mention the statement was considered rather old fashioned. Furrowing his brow, the confusion was hard to hide from the teacher's expression. Feeling no need to peer over his shoulder Scott could feel a focused glance watching over him. And indeed seated but a few tables back Logan watched coolly at the interactions, observing the newly relaxed postures; his main focus however was surveying over each sip the Boy Scout took, of his heated beverage.