'Logan, could y--' Logan slammed a door behind him and made a very solid effort to block out the Prof's telepathy. He'd get the point. Right now, very few things, very few people, could take his mind off his troubles. And one of them was presumed dead and one he'd just shut himself off from.
He sniffed the air and knew exactly where he could find Hank and Ro. They were in the library. Halfway there, he could hear what they were talking about. The Porcupine, for a change. Kid always seemed to be the topic of conversation these days.
"Ah, Logan, maybe you could be of some assistance," Hank McCoy said, patting the seat next to him. Logan looked at the seat, looked at Hank, and leaned against a bookshelf. The mild-mannered Beast still wasn't used to Logan's sometimes rude mannerisms.
"You've been doing the training sessions with the students for the last week," Ororo cut in, "Have you noticed anything strange about Evan's performance?" Hell yes, he couldn't block on his left if his life depended on it. But Logan had a feeling that Storm wasn't talking about her nephew's lack of skill.
"Dunno," Logan said simply, "No better, no worse than usual."
"You're sure?"
'Did I stutter?' He felt like growling, but he held his tongue.
"Have you, perhaps, smelled any...er...substances...on him?" Oh mercy, there went any hope of this being a leisurely conversation about fighting styles. Honestly, Logan would have known in a second if any of the X-Men had drugs on them, but he was a little peeved at the moment, to say the least, so he saw the glass as half empty. Why did they just assume he would know that? Where did they get off expecting that he kept the young X-Men in order like a mother hen?
"Dunno," he said again. He was really being an SOB, he knew full well, but he needed to get it out of his system. No further questions came, so he felt the coast was clear to leave.
"Logan, please, it's one of your responsibilities to--" Oh no he didn't.
"TO WHAT?" he roared, spinning around. "It's my responsibility to teach these kids hand-to-hand combat and survival skills, cuz I'm the best at that. I AIN'T THESE KIDS' HEALTH TEACHER! LEGAL GUARDIAN! OR FATHER!"
The moment of clarity that followed that outburst stung Logan a little.
"Logan?" Ororo asked softly. She knew him well enough to know that his attitude had little to do with them, it was something he had to get off his chest.
"Never smelled a thing on him, Ro," Logan said, the calm returning to his voice. A nod toward Hank before he exited was as close to an apology as he'd ever give.
Going to apologize to Kitty wasn't even an option. Just the thought of it re-tied one of the knots in his gut. 'Dammit, Logan,' he cursed himself, 'When'd you become such a wuss?' If he was really going to work out his frustrations, he'd have to see that dear, dear, dearly departed friend.
The Danger Room door slid open, the current simulation fading to an early end. "Popsicle. Out." Wolverine, in costume now, glared daggers at Iceman, who quickly slid out of his way.
"Voice recognition Logan," he said as the doors slid shut, "Sim Sabretooth 93."
He sniffed the air and knew exactly where he could find Hank and Ro. They were in the library. Halfway there, he could hear what they were talking about. The Porcupine, for a change. Kid always seemed to be the topic of conversation these days.
"Ah, Logan, maybe you could be of some assistance," Hank McCoy said, patting the seat next to him. Logan looked at the seat, looked at Hank, and leaned against a bookshelf. The mild-mannered Beast still wasn't used to Logan's sometimes rude mannerisms.
"You've been doing the training sessions with the students for the last week," Ororo cut in, "Have you noticed anything strange about Evan's performance?" Hell yes, he couldn't block on his left if his life depended on it. But Logan had a feeling that Storm wasn't talking about her nephew's lack of skill.
"Dunno," Logan said simply, "No better, no worse than usual."
"You're sure?"
'Did I stutter?' He felt like growling, but he held his tongue.
"Have you, perhaps, smelled any...er...substances...on him?" Oh mercy, there went any hope of this being a leisurely conversation about fighting styles. Honestly, Logan would have known in a second if any of the X-Men had drugs on them, but he was a little peeved at the moment, to say the least, so he saw the glass as half empty. Why did they just assume he would know that? Where did they get off expecting that he kept the young X-Men in order like a mother hen?
"Dunno," he said again. He was really being an SOB, he knew full well, but he needed to get it out of his system. No further questions came, so he felt the coast was clear to leave.
"Logan, please, it's one of your responsibilities to--" Oh no he didn't.
"TO WHAT?" he roared, spinning around. "It's my responsibility to teach these kids hand-to-hand combat and survival skills, cuz I'm the best at that. I AIN'T THESE KIDS' HEALTH TEACHER! LEGAL GUARDIAN! OR FATHER!"
The moment of clarity that followed that outburst stung Logan a little.
"Logan?" Ororo asked softly. She knew him well enough to know that his attitude had little to do with them, it was something he had to get off his chest.
"Never smelled a thing on him, Ro," Logan said, the calm returning to his voice. A nod toward Hank before he exited was as close to an apology as he'd ever give.
Going to apologize to Kitty wasn't even an option. Just the thought of it re-tied one of the knots in his gut. 'Dammit, Logan,' he cursed himself, 'When'd you become such a wuss?' If he was really going to work out his frustrations, he'd have to see that dear, dear, dearly departed friend.
The Danger Room door slid open, the current simulation fading to an early end. "Popsicle. Out." Wolverine, in costume now, glared daggers at Iceman, who quickly slid out of his way.
"Voice recognition Logan," he said as the doors slid shut, "Sim Sabretooth 93."