Ariel frowned and looked at her watch as her long hair, down for a change, fell loosely around her face. It was ten minutes before her next appointment, but she could feel someone standing out there. With a light nudge of her mind she figured out who it was. She shook her head and chuckled. Getting up from her desk and tiptoeing to the door, she opened it quickly, catching the man behind it by surprise. His eyes were wide as he looked at her amused expression.

"You know, you could just knock if you're early."

"I didn't want to disturb you if you were, you know, talking to someone." He blustered a little in his surprise and embarrassment. "Just trying to be…"

"Gentlemanly?" She grinned and put her hand on his arm. "Actually, that's what that is for." She pointed to the little name plate next to her door, which had a sliding panel to cover 'in' or 'out'. She slid the panel to 'out' with her index finger, and dramatically pulled him into the office. "You see? Now anyone who walks up knows I'm talking to someone."

She watched his expression as it became more difficult for him not to laugh. "I suppose the kids catch on to that one quick."

"Oh, yes. I only have one person who just walks in as he knocks."

He looked down, laughed quietly. "Hey, at least he knocked." She giggled at that, and he looked back into her eyes. "Ah, about yesterday…" Ariel patted his cheek.

"I thought we settled that yesterday."

"Well… I just wanted to say-"

"Logan." She frowned for a moment, as if she was getting a strange feeling from him. Something he needed to say, something he needed to hear. "Oh." She stepped back, folded her arms. "Go ahead."

He looked at her seriously, sighed, and closed the distance between them. "I'm sorry."

She looked at him, and said, very formally and sincerely, "I forgive you." Something seemed to release in his shoulders, and he nodded.

"Thanks."

Ariel nodded thoughtfully. He really seemed to need the words. "Now. Would you do something for me? I know it's a bit personal, so if you don't want to I understand."

He looked like he was getting whiplash from the change in direction the conversation was taking. "Ah… just tell me what it is, first." He frowned a bit nervously, but then some inner male made a joke and he leered at her, dropping into the flirtation game he used when he was uneasy. "I mean, I'm not terribly upset if you require my services…" She rolled her eyes.

"You're incorrigible. And rather goofy." Picking up her reading glasses from the corner of her desk, she said, "What I'd really like is to see your claws. If it doesn't hurt too much."

When her eyes met his again, she was shocked. There was something there she couldn't quite identify, and if it was pain, she couldn't tell. "It's just that yesterday was the first time I saw them on you, and I was curious-" She stopped. "Logan? If you don't want to…" The eye contact never wavered.

"Okay. If that's what you want." Back to being the freak show. So much for her thinking of me as a normal man, a friend…or anything else besides the Wolverine… He crossed his wrists in front of his chest and clenched his fists. Slowly, with a metallic whisper, nine inches of razor sharp metal pierced through his knuckles. He watched for her reaction, knowing the fear and shock that usually accompanied the display.

She looked fascinated. "My word. They're beautiful."

He blinked. "They're what?"

"Very elegant." She smiled up at him, and he shook his head. "Clean lines. Almost… hmm… almost art deco. Of course, that's probably because of the three motif. Very popular with deco, threes." She was turning her head to look at them from different angles, and he felt the confusion spilling out onto his face. "You'd think they would have blood on them, wouldn't you?" This wasn't what he was expecting. Lifting her hand towards his, she stopped and looked him in the eye. "May I?"

He dropped his hands, still a bit shocked, so that she could examine them more closely. Her fingers were gentle and warm as they slid over the backs of his hands, down the blades. "Careful. They're sharp."

"Yes, I can see that." She moved her fingers back along the sides of the blades, touching them delicately. "And they were originally bone? But treated, like the rest of your skeleton?"

"Yeah."

"But they were still this sharp?"

"I guess. I don't remember too much…"

"Of course." She shook her head and smiled. "What am I thinking." Turning his hands over, she brushed the fingers of his fist. "Do you have to keep your fists clenched?"

"Only if I don't want it to hurt more than it does."

"I'm sorry. I don't want you to-"

"No, it's okay. It's when they first come through that I really feel it."

"Oh." His fists had relaxed enough for her to slip her smaller hand inside one of his. She squeezed it gently and slowly pulled her hands away. "Thank you. I was curious. I appreciate your openness."

"It's alright." He watched her as she watched the blades retract, the skin closing almost immediately.

"Beautiful." She brushed her hand over his now smooth knuckles, smiled at him again, and pushed her long ringlets back over her shoulder. "Shall we begin?"

His nostrils flared, as he watched her. "It's not an act, is it."

She moved over to the leather chair where she normally sat and tilted her head at him. For a moment she looked confused, as if she had missed something. "An act?"

"You really do think…" He shook his head, walked over to the couch and sat down. "Nevermind."

She sat down, thoughtful, and opened her notebook. "I'd like to know, if you're willing to say."

His face told of an internal discussion, and he finally shrugged. "You really aren't afraid of – them."

She smiled, back on track. "That would be like asking if you were afraid of my…" she paused, looked down at herself, considering, and smirking at the first choice that sprang to mind. "Of my… ah, feet. They're a part of you. No, I'm not afraid of 'them', Logan."

"Or… me."