"Plugs workin for you, Logan?"
"Straightlace? You wanna do drugs," Logan shouted.
"Worked a little too well," Scott laughed.
Logan leaned on the bar, ordering a drink.
"It's not like I'm payin' on the company card," Logan looked to Scott with a hint of annoyance.
"I'm just sayin'."
"You always do, because you can't hold your liquor," Logan taunted, briefly annoyed with Scott's drawn expression. "I'm only messin' with ya."
Scott snorted with impatience, because Logan was oblivious to the redhead that stepped up to the bar right next to him. He was too busy giving him grief to notice.
'Turn around,' he mouthed.
Logan arched a curious eyebrow and did as Scott said, his expression of confusion turning to one of interest as he watched Jean drop the shot of Bailey's into a large glass of dark beer and drink down an Irish Carbomb. Sensing she was being watched, Jean looked under her lashes at Logan and set the empty glass down, licking the foam of the drink from her upper lip.
"Hi," she smiled.
"Hey," Logan replied, watching her walk away.
"Did ya see that?"
"Sure did," Logan smirked.
"That right there was our moment of opportunity," Scott looked ready to pick a fight.
"Easy, Scott. We won't get her if we just leap and not look first."
"Unbelievable! Makin' eyes at our mark," Scott thought he had seen everything, but this was new, even for Logan.
"Catch more flies with honey than vinegar," Logan smirked at Scott, swaggering away from the bar.
"Thank you, O guru of women."
Logan looked down from the balcony, to a group of people near the stage, and focused in on her. To say this woman was gorgeous was an understatement, while most of the drunks danced around like they were wired to a car battery, she moved slow and smooth like an animal on the dance floor, power and grace. She was a predator, just like him.
"Logan...oh boy," Scott's mood subsided as he couldn't help from grinning.
"Shit," Logan muttered, pulling Scott back from the railing.
"What!"
"Don't look now, we're outnumbered by 'paths."
Scott looked down on the dance floor, Emma Frost and Elizabeth Braddock flanked Jean on either side. The most beautiful witches, scandalous Fates, Seers beyond ritual, and they had gotten to her first.
"Does everyone want this girl," Logan growled.
"Brilliant deduction, Holmes. But I wonder…does this 'everyone' include you?"
"Shut it, Watson."
"The last time I was near Emma she nearly scratched my eyes out."
"That's what you get for being you around a priss whose wardrobe consists of doilies as outerwear," Logan explained, not for the first time.
"Betsy was nice, though."
"Assassin," Logan reminded him.
"I'm not a half-wit."
"Yeah yeah, c'mon they're on the move."
Logan and Scott followed from the balcony, keeping the three telepaths in sight.
"I'll be damned if they get her into that bunch of man-hating, feminist rhetoric-spouting, butch-"
"They aren't butch, Logan."
"-Amazonian harpies with guns," he finished
He followed the scent of sweet Bailey's and smooth Jameson Whisky that clung to her breath.
"She's comin' up the stairs," Logan filled Scott in.
"I'll just leave you to her, then," Scott carved a pathway back to the bar.
He stayed in the shadows while she passed him, going into the ladies' room. Leaning on the balcony railing, he actually found himself enjoying the music. The smell of Bailey's and Jameson hit his nose, and he watched her walk by dressed in a long-sleeved shirt, mini, knee high combat boots, all of it blackest black; her hair styled straight and in a loose braid down her back.
"Nice skirt."
She paused on the stairs, turning smoky eyes his way. "Is that gonna follow with some sort of line."
"No, just like how it looks on you. Sort of short for this kind of weather, though."
"I manage to keep warm," she smiled.
"Just from dancing?"
"You were watching," she asked.
"Couldn't help it," he shrugged, smirking as she left the stairs to stand next to him.
"As fun as dancing is, I think you have a better view from here," she put her hand on his shoulder.
A large group milled about the bathrooms, invading the space that Jean and Logan took up. It made her nervous, and Logan had to get a chance to know her better.
"Here," he guided her to his spot as he stepped back, keeping the crowd at bay by using his arms as a barrier on either side.
"Thank you," she smiled.
Logan leaned in next to her ear. "You're welcome."
"Scott Summers," Emma purred with a hint of razor in her voice.
"Hi Emma," he smiled.
"What are you doing here."
"Isn't it obvious, the concert?"
"Who are you with," she stepped closer.
"Logan."
"Betsy, go."
"Sure thing," the assassin slipped into the crowd with a flash of liquid blue-black hair.
"Good to see you again," Scott stood up from his seat, a good foot taller than the blond.
"Where's Logan?'
"I lost him awhile ago, grabbed a drink and saw a skirt to chase," he shrugged.
"You have no use of her," she spat, taking a step closer.
"And you do, with two telepaths already? Fancy yourselves the Fates, the Gray Sisters, the Furies-"
"Please do spare me your annoying knowledge of Greek myth," she held up a hand, looking through the crowd. "Bastard touches her and I'll make sure his healing factor gets good use when I'm through with him-" she muttered, heading in the direction Scott left Logan.
"Here we go," he sighed.
Logan felt the icy look that only Emma Frost could give on the back of his neck.
"There you are! I thought you were coming back," Emma smiled at Jean.
"I got to talking with, I'm sorry I didn't ask your name," she chuckled, looking to Logan.
"It's Logan," Emma interrupted.
"Thanks Emma," Logan sneered.
"Emma," Jean tensed up, looking to Emma with dawning wariness.
"Gave her a fake name did you," Logan smirked.
"Didn't tell her you've met before, did you? Just a few nights ago," Emma smiled sweetly.
"Yeah, where were you when she needed help?"
"Guys, can we please talk about this," Scott tried to delegate, to not avail.
"Hey, we have a girl with yellow eyes comin' this way people," Betsy showed up, looking angry.
Jean was silent as she stood among the group of Mutants bickering among themselves, all after her as well. Did she have absolutely no one in this world she could trust? Logan was there the night Magneto tried to take her, was he one of them? The voice was vaguely familiar…She didn't have time to sort it all out, Mystique was there. She only wanted to be free of this, and to her surprise they all fell around her feet. Once again the adrenaline hit her and she hopped over the railing, dropping lightly to the lower floor and ran out the open delivery door.
"They didn't say she was a telekinetic, too," Scott groaned, trying to pick himself up off the floor.
"Nope, did not mention that," Logan stood and cracked his neck, pulling Betsy to her feet.
"Thanks, Logan."
"No problem," he sighed.
"Well, she's gone-no thanks to you," Emma scowled.
"Keep your face like that you'll need a fresh Botox injection to paralyze that demonic line that creases your forehead," Logan shot back, only making half the effort he usually would.
"What about Mystique?"
"We'll deal with her," Emma nodded to Betsy.
"Should we go after Jean," Scott asked.
"Not tonight."
