"Why're we doin' this again?"

Logan sighed. "Vic, you need a haircut."

"I don't! My hair's fine as is."

"Yeah, except for it bein' long, unkempt, and getting in the way of me sleeping next to you."

Snort. "Last time I checked, ya' could just move over in bed."

"What's that gonna' do?" The canuck looked to the establishment: POP'S BARBER SHOP. He'd gotten the mention from Luke Cage, and honestly, why not trust a fellow superhero? "Look, it's quick and simple. Just pay 'em, ya' walk out, and the day goes on."

"What if I don't wanna' do this, Jimmy?"

"Yer call." He patted Victor's shoulder, earning a growl. "But ask yourself this; when's the last ya' got a cut?"

Victor snarled again, but then hesitantly walked into the shop.

"Might as well…He's gonna' owe me…"


A couple hours later, Victor found Logan in the bar next door. He was reading a newspaper – well, was until he grabbed it out of his hand.

"Hey, what the-"

He stopped to look at Victor's new haircut. The mutton chops, the toothed grin, the eyes flickering between a hunter and a hustler. They were all still there.

But the long hair was gone, replaced by the familiar curly and firm shortness he remembered from those more brutal times.

Victor didn't look pleased. "Ya' like me now, runt? That Pop guy wouldn't shuddup about the gangs in this part o' town."

"Hmmm." Logan's lips curved positively. "Already liked ya', Creed. Have a seat." He beckoned to the opposite booth, then tapped the whiskey in front of him.

For a moment, Victor hesitated on whether to continue bickering or just concede.

Screw it, he thought. Can annoy him over another time.

He took the seat and slid in, catching onto the game that the television some booths away was advertising. "Who's playing?"

"Bills 'n Lions."

"Lions gotta' have this in the bag."

"Wouldn't be so sure about that."

Victor sent Logan a shrewd tease. "Game on."