As Gambit walked into the kitchen, Wolverine looked up from the glasses he was washing at the sink, nodded, and returned to cleaning the remaining dishes from the earlier party. Gambit couldn't believe the sight of Wolverine, his sleeves rolled up, hands and arms covered in suds, dishtowel carelessly thrown over his shoulder...he smiled, then tried to hold the laughter back. It didn't work, and soon he was howling, pounding the refrigerator door. Wolverine cocked his head and threw a wet dish rag at him. "What?" he growled, making Gambit laugh harder.

Gambit gasped out, "You…dishes…New Year's…"

Wolverine shrugged. "Someone's gotta do them, and I got no plans. How about you?" he returned. "Why aren't you doing something, or someone? You were flirting pretty hard in there."

Gambit quickly sobered up. "Mon ami, when the girl you interested in pays you no mind, it's kinda hard to get into someone else."

Wolverine nodded and bent over the serving dish, wiping it over and over again. "You tried talking to her?"

"You try talking to Jean?" Gambit leaned against the edge of the sink and folded his arms.

Wolverine's eyes flickered, and he nodded. "Good point." He put the dish away and threw the dish towel over a rod.

"Guess I got it easier than you, though, cher. I only got Scott to compete with. You got Hank."

Wolverine rolled his eyes. "Don't remind me. Bastard." He paused. "You, too."

"Hank, a bastard? Tell me. Rubbin' your nose in it, is he?"

Wolverine turned on Gambit, rage in his eyes, and took a fighting stance. "No. That's the problem. Bastard's so damn understanding and …" His mood changed, and he almost purred, "By the way, how are you dealing with Scott?" His body relaxed and his face took on a smug look. "Like being passed over for the most boring X-man ever? Being ignored for Mr. Straight and Narrow?"

Gambit grabbed a handful of cards and charged them, then thought for a second and laughed instead. "Damn, you fight dirty, Wolverine. Truce?"

"I didn't start anything," he replied, grinning. He sniffed the air once and frowned.

"Trouble?" Gambit put the cards back in his pocket, but kept a hand on them.

Wolverine said, slowly, "No, just a weird mixture." Gambit heard someone walking down the hall, and then smelled the familiar pipe tobacco that Banshee used.

Banshee entered the room and bowed. "Happy New Year, me hungry friends…at least, I'd guess ye are."

"You more than us." Wolverine still had an odd look on his face. Gambit cocked his head.

"Me more than…oh." Sean's eyes lit with understanding, but then his head bowed over his pipe. He became very interested in filling his pipe with more tobacco, though he had quite a bit in there already. "And I'm afraid I wouldn't know what you're talking about at all, would I?"

Wolverine nodded and opened the refrigerator, pulling out some German imported beer. "Breakfast's on me today, Irish. I feel generous."

Gambit pushed two bottles over to him. "Give you a double, cher. Take that edge off."

Sean raised an eyebrow. "It'd take more than that to satisfy what I'm cravin', but I'll take it anyway." He opened both and raised them. "May ye be in heaven an hour before the Devil knows you're dead." He drank heartily.

Gambit put down his bottle. "So we the unlucky ones, huh?"

Sean coughed, and Wolverine said, "Define unlucky."

"You know what I mean." Gambit finished his drink. "Got nothing to do."

"You could always help me repair the power lines in the Danger Room," Sean offered innocently. Wolverine snorted, and Gambit gave him a hard stare.

"I got an idea. Come on." Wolverine grabbed his leather jacket. "We're going to the Auger Inn."

"And where the hell would this be?" Sean asked.

Gambit grinned. "Cher, it's a great place for a fight. I'm goin'."

Sean stood and stretched. "Now, that's something I can do." The three men left for Salem Center's business district and the good brawl awaiting them.