Scott Summers walked into the senior common room and looked around him. "Hey does anyone know where Ms Jacobson is?" Logan, who was supervising the room by standing by the window and smoking a cigar, turned, slightly, towards him.
"Drove her down to O'Sullivan's a while back," he growled. Scott stared at him.
"Why?" he asked.
"She looked like she needed a drink," Logan growled in reply. "How's the elf?"
"He's going to be fine," Scott replied. Logan nodded and turned back to the window. "If you see her before I do tell her I need to talk to her." Logan made no response at all. Scott rolled his eyes, a habit he'd never gotten out of since no-one could ever see his eyes. Then he turned on his heel and walked out.
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"Has Amanda gone out?" asked Jean, having walked into the room about twenty minutes after Scott left it. For her Logan turned entirely away from the window for her he had stubbed out the cigar he'd just started and dropped it into the rain. He leaned back and stared appreciatively at the red head.
"Yep."
"You gave her a ride?" she asked.
"Soul of chivalry," he growled smugly.
"Down to O'Sullivans? And you didn't stay with her? How's she meant to get back?" Jean asked.
"She was meeting someone, didn't want to stick my nose in. She's a grown woman after all," Logan returned calmly, but Jean had already turned around and was heading out of the room. Logan watched her disappear and smirked to himself.
"And you aren't full grown yet, kid, so I better not see that hand where I think I do." This was delivered toRogue, who was sitting on the couch with Bobby.
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"Dat fille gone out drinkin'?" asked Remy LeBeau incredulously, about an hour later. The kids had now been banished to their rooms and he and Logan were drinking whiskey together up on the roof. "She bin in de job thirty seconds and she already nearly kill someone. Den she goes out drinkin'? Dat fille est fou. 'Ro's on de warpath already. Remy tinks she goin' to murder dat fille when she sees her. Squishing her sweetie. Not very bright. She meana be a teacher an' she sure ain' brigh'..."
"I'm sure the Prof knows what he's doing," interrupted Logan with a growl. He wasn't being aggressive. It was just his voice.
"Well he sure as hell ain't sharin'wha' 'es doin'with the rest of us. Remy saw dat Summers tryin' not to explode. 'es goin' to make her life a livin' hell just you wait. Remy can tell."
"He might give the rest of us a break then," Logan returned complacently. He always enjoyed watching Summers simmer. Someone else tugging his rope for a change. It had to be good.
"What she doin' dough?" Remy asked. "She drownin' her sorrows an' you would have stayed and helped her. So who dat fille meetin'? Dat's wha' Remy wants to know."
"What do I look like a fucking shrink?" Logan growled taking his whiskey bottle back off LeBeau. "Don't ask, don't tell, that's my motto. Always has been."
Remy didn't say anything and quietly hoped the whiskey bottle would come back. He had his own damn sorrows to drown.