Remy fixes his gaze three feet outside the window, certain that looking inside is far more risky. The man at his side is neither interested in the weather nor the possibility of crashing. He clearly doesn't do normal, but then who does these days? Every kid from every backwater seems to show up claiming some kind of power and the term 'mutant' applies to everyone.

But lack of special or not, this man is different and it's not just his tendency to strip down regardless of circumstance. He pays in full, even if his currency isn't cold hard cash and Remy's tongue pushes briefly against the roof of his mouth, a quick taste of real power. He'd smile if he wasn't so sure it'd lead to questions and he likes his life simple, likes it complicated.

"How long?"

Remy shifts in the seat, his grip on the controls easy as ever. "Maybe a half hour," he says and tilts his gaze in Logan's direction. "Said I'd get you there, didn't I?"

Logan grunts a little and leans back, elbow crushing the worn seat leather as he stares ahead and apparently sees nothing. Nothing that Remy can see, anyway. There's a comforting fog that seems to stretch easily over the water and he finds a perverse pleasure in trusting instinct, not instrument to guide him.

"So we're square," he says carefully as he keeps the craft level. "Can just walk away after, no hard feelin's, right?"

"There's always hard feelin's."

Remy rolls his eyes but the other man doesn't see, doesn't look and he can't really bring himself to care all that much. He refuses to give in to introspection, preferring to live in the moment. He doesn't know why anyone would want to question the past the way this man does, as far as Remy's concerned, even yesterday's a different country.

"So you gonna kill this guy an' finish up his pet project?" He flashes a wild grin as Logan raises an eyebrow. "Just thinkin' it might not be that easy."

"Didn't come here for easy."

"Right. Just a bunch of vengeance." He grips the controls a little tighter and settles back in the seat. "Cause that's always a good idea."

"Anyone tell you, you talk too much?"

"Sometimes." Remy grins. "Course I'm all over bein' distracted."

There's another grunt and Remy thinks he might just prefer it. The man talks in bubbles, a plethora of the damn things reaching back into the ago and he's got just enough instinct not to ask how long that really might be. He's young, but Remy figures you don't have to notch that many years on your belt to understand trouble.

The seat beside him squeaks again, bending beneath hard muscle and he's conscious that the man could break him, do him some serious damage if he so chose. Logan doesn't have to show his claws to make that clear. He doesn't have to do much more than breathe to highlight that to Remy and he'd be better sitting still, concentrating on the weather outside and forgetting the localized one within.

But he can't help it and he clears his throat. "So you got plans for after?"

Logan turns, addressing his companion for the first time. "Who says there's gonna be an after?"

Remy chuckles and shakes his head. "There's gotta be an after," he says and risks looking at Logan. "Specially for you."

"Who says?"

"Well you did." Remy licks over his bottom lip and starts to make the turn toward the island. "Kinda hard to kill."

"You plannin' on tryin'?"

"Nope." Remy clears his throat. "Just sayin' if you wanted to go grab a cold one after, I'd be more than happy to take one off you."

The other man chuckles and Remy believes that it's been a while since he so much as cracked a grin. That's not healthy for anyone and he grins as he eases forward. "That a yes to the beer?"

"Kid," says Logan as he leans back in the chair. "They're gonna beat me to hell an' back. Ain't gonna have time for beer an' foolin' around."

"Got all your priorities wrong then," says Remy and stretches slightly, knee brushing against Logan's thigh as he licks his lip. For a moment, a delicious instant of time between possible and not, he can actually feel the longing for connection. There's an itch, a need that needs to be answered and he risks looking up at Logan's face. His eyes are dark, dangerous and it's not sex but destruction that's on his mind.

It's a dark and desperate path the man chooses to walk and it will never lead to peace and contentment. There's nothing but heat in the dark, every last step he takes will burn and Remy's cock pounds hard enough to make his hands slippery against the controls. All he has to do is reach out and take the man's hand, walk the path and embrace the surety that this will end in blood.

All he has to do is want it.

Just for a second he knows he can do just that, follow the man into hell and see what that gig looks like. But he's young, pretentious and not ready to admit his fate's set in stone and Remy breaks the contact with ease. He turns back to the view through the window and barely clears his throat. "Be landin' soon," he says as he shrugs his shoulders. "If you wanted to get your head down."

There's no response and Remy can only feel relief in the moment passing, aware even as it does that it might not be for keeps. "I'm still good for the beer," he says quietly, but Logan's asleep, or at least his eyes are closed and the path to the island's clear enough. So he knows he'll get in, get out and get clear just as soon as he can and that though he'll wait for the man in the plane, Logan won't show.

He grins at the knowledge. The past is known but forgotten and the future's never easy to read, but Remy's pretty damn sure that one day soon he won't be drinking alone.

Genuine heroics always take it out of you and there's always going to be a need for a cold beer with a buddy who gets you. And Remy gets Logan pretty damn good.

He guides the plane down toward the water and despite the earlier fog it looks like it could be a really nice day. He smiles easily and keeps his hands and mind at the controls.