Disclaimer: Maggie's mine. Everyone else belongs to themselves and Marvel.
As promised, the plot is now under way. I have deliberately chosen to introduce a particular character because of obvious similarities. I've always been fascinated with Logan's feral nature but it is usually compared to the negative aspects of Sabretooth. There is one character with positive aspects so, although it is unlikely she'll ever get her screen debut, I've decided to introduce her to movieverse fiction. Oh, and by the way, I've taken an outsized chunk of poetic licence and twisted acknowledged facts to suit the story so I apologise in advance for upsetting anyone's purist genre sensibilities.
Apologies to any Scottish readers. Writing accents is not my strong point I'm afraid.
Thanks to MidLifeCrisis, Dr Nat, joegood2003 and last, but certainly not least, dayrunner 145 for their encouraging reviews.
Chapter 7: Optimism overload
The slow, muffled beat of Summers' feet on the carpeted stairs informs me the Fearless Leader is executing a strategic and dignified retreat as I head down the hall. He's still got a lot of shit to process but he's armed with a shovel now. Good luck to him.
I don't bother knocking on Xavier's study door, he ain't my fucking headmaster and I ain't never in the mood for social mores. 'Sides, he knows I'm here; I'm expected and I'm damn sure he's utilising his brain mojo. In such close proximity to his study I can't shake feeling that my confrontation with Summers drew a silent, invisible audience of one. Too bad if Xavier don't like me stealing his territory, the kid needed to be told.
Nothing about Xavier's mansion is cheap, including the study's colonial style oak doors with their matching pair of baroque – where the fuck did that come from? – handles. The elegantly scrolled brass is cool to the touch and fits comfortably in my grip. I apply pressure to the right handle and the lock mechanism engages with an almost inaudible click. As the door swings smoothly inward a waft of cool and bitingly fresh air washes over me, displacing the nauseating funk of the hall. My over-taxed sense of smell is instantly invigorated as I breath in the sweetness but I'm gonna have ta suck in a helluvva lot more ta get rid of the bitter, metallic foulness coating my mouth and throat. Stepping swiftly across the threshold of Xavier's lair, I try not to slam the door too hard against the stink.
Xavier's study is spacious, bright. sumptuously furnished and makes the hall outside feel oppressively dim by comparison. The slightly musty odour of old books, whose floor to ceiling shelves line two walls, mingles with the aromas of antique leather furniture and various types of wood. Late morning sunlight slants through the tall windows, bathing the room in it's golden warmth. The windows are so large they give an illusion of the garden being an extension of the study. One of them has been thrown wide open allowing fresh air, fragrant with the mixed scents of grass, shrubs and spring flowers, to percolate the room. Xavier occupies his customary spot behind the massive, ornately inlaid mahogany desk in the centre of the room. He ain't wearing an immaculate suit though he's discarded the sweats for a dark green turtleneck and beige pants.
His bald head catches the light as he inclines it towards me. Gesturing with a hand he says, "Thank you for coming. Please take a seat."
Sauntering across the room I relax, arms crossed, against the wall next to the open window. Here the fresh air is more concentrated and I breath it in, savouring its delicious essence as it sooths my assaulted senses. I think it's gonna take a couple of strong beers to lose the metallic taste though.
"I'm fine here thanks."
"As you wish. Your capacity to surprise seems to be without limit today, Logan," Xavier says by way of greeting. The smile on his lips extends all the way up to his steel blue eyes so I guess I ain't in for a wigging. "You communicated to Scott, in a few moments of heated exchange, a fundamental truth weeks of reasoned argument failed to deliver. Never again shall I underestimate the crude effectiveness of a short, sharp shock. Threatening to remove his power of command galvanised him in a way I failed to anticipate."
And he calls himself a telepath?
"He ain't a kid, Charlie. Quit treating him like one."
Xavier shifts his weight, straightening his spine he leans forward slightly, fingers interlocked, resting his elbows on the arms of his chair. Although confined to a wheelchair he conveys the aura of a man in his prime who stands tall, confident and proud. His legs might not work so good no more but he sure as hell don't come across as either a victim or a pitiful cripple. He's powerful and dangerous and could wipe his ass with the whole world if he ever put his mind to it. For all I know he's playing me like a baby grand. Instinct tells me he's probably a straight up guy trying to do what's best. A damned gooder.
Xavier's eyes seem to look soul deep inside me. I hate it when he does that. "Yes, I see that now. I am very grateful for your timely intervention."
Realisation strikes hard and I don't like what's it's saying. "This is why the X Men have been stood down since Alkali Lake." It ain't a question, it's an accusation.
Xavier nods, his expression serious. "Scott's preoccupation with Jean's death affected him to the point where the team's dynamics have been fatally compromised."
Fucking unbelievable. I know Xavier has flaws but this bastard is a doozy. "You saying that if Summers falls apart the team does too? How fucking stupid is that? You might be one helluvva teacher but I gotta tell ya Charlie, you know jack about commanding a field unit."
A condescending smile twists Xavier's lips but it's only skin deep. The rest of him tenses and his interlocked fingers bunch up very briefly into a single, knuckle-white fist. Must've crawled under his skin good and proper this time.
"Logan, the X Men are not a combat unit, they are peacekeepers."
Yeah, right. If ya believe that then yer dumber than I look.
"Fer crying out loud, Charlie! When're ya gonna wake up and smell the napalm? There's a fucking war raging outside your gates and looking catwalk hot for truth, justice and the right to tell Mom her apple pie tastes like puke ain't gonna keep your people alive. The world don't work that way. Never has, never will. Ya can't send kids into a fight armed only with a pre-emptive smile and a tactical arsenal of weapons grade pacifist bullshit. Look me in they eye and tell me that Summers' deliberate failure to kill Magneto on Liberty Island is justifiable."
He looks me in the eye but he ain't smiling no more. "Killing is not the answer…"
"And how you gonna peddle that chickenshit hogwash to the families of the thousands of people around the world who died when Magneto sicced you on 'em?"
The expression on his face is unfathomable. He ain't angry, exactly. More like exasperated, like a parent trying to reason with a defiant kid. I ain't getting through to him.
"Erik was once a man of peace and somewhere deep inside that man still exists. I can persuade him to return to the path he has strayed from…"
Shit. This delusion is gonna be the death of us all. "Magneto is a psycho nut job who needs to be put down fast. He ain't your friend anymore Charlie and the world ain't never gonna be safe with him loose in it. The only way to stop a bastard like him is put a gun to his head and pebbledash the nearest sidewalk with his brains."
"Violence only begets more violence," Xavier admonishes.
Fuck, enough with the Reasonable Voice already.
"Then why keep me around in your prissy-ass school? I ain't ever gonna turn the other cheek. I'm a killer. Extreme prejudice made flesh. I hurt people for a living. It's all I'm good for."
"Logan…"
I ain't finished yet! I'm gonna have my say and yer gonna listen, dammit.
"That's it, ain't it? Deadly force turns your stomach but you can't deny its effectiveness in extreme circumstances. You need someone like me around to do the dirty work your kiss-butt cheerleaders can't handle."
"Logan, I need you to be quiet just for a moment please."
Xavier's eyes are closed and he's pinching the bridge of his nose as if he has a headache. I hope it's an industrial strength one. "You are a valuable addition to the team, I can't deny that. As much as it pains me to admit it, there are times when resorting to physical force to prevent loss of life becomes inevitable. However, premeditated use of violence will not be tolerated. The lessons of hindsight can be harsh but we do not have the right to prejudge people for crimes they have not yet committed. Peace through justice and passive resistance can be moulded into a universal constant and will eventually prevail. Mahatma Gandhi taught the world that."
Sure, he taught the world a lesson and got himself royally butt-fucked for his trouble.
"Gandhi was assassinated and his dream destroyed. Almost sixty years on the people he tried to unite are champing at the bit to nuke the crap out of each other. The fuck up factor inherent in human nature is one universal constant that ain't never gonna change no matter how hard ya try. Even an emotional retard like me I can see that."
Xavier's smiling again.
"What?"
"You are standing in my study eloquently debating the philosophy of human nature and the political history of the Indian sub-continent yet you insist that killing people is all you are good for."
"Fuck you, Charlie."
"I believe it would be more productive if you work with me, Logan."
"Whatever."
"You are obviously an experienced leader…"
Ah, shit. He ain't saying what I think he's saying is he? "Don't go there, bub," I warn him.
"…with a valuable insight in the strategies of team cohesion, tactics and survival. I think we have much to learn from each other and Scott would benefit from your experience greatly. It is vital we continue this discussion in the presence of the team as soon as possible I suggest tomorrow morning, once Scott has fully analysed the impact of your conversation and recovered his composure. However, there is another matter I wish to discuss with you today."
He ain't offering me One-eye's job. Suits me 'coz now I don't haveta tell him to stuff it.
"The school is about to induct a new pupil."
The turn of the conversation is almost too surreal. One moment we're arguing the finer points of fighting for our lives and the next he's switched to talking mundane crap about some new kid. I'm beginning to wonder if Xavier's grip on the situation ain't quite as strong as I hope it is.
"Really." And why should I give a shit?
"She is the daughter of a very good friend of mine."
Instinctively, I don't like where this is leading. "I'm happy for ya but what's it gotta do with me?"
" I believe you can make a valuable contribution to this girl's education."
Not a snowflake's chance in Hell, Cue-ball. "Screw that! I'll kick bad guy butt for ya but no way am I joining the faculty."
Xavier leans back in his chair, head slightly cocked. "I'm not asking you to. We have more than adequate staff to supply her academic needs."
"Then what d'ya need me for? What the fuck can I offer a kid?"
"I would like you to help her control her mutation."
This has got to be some bizarre, screwed up dream. Either that or Xavier has not only lost the plot, he's forgotten he ever possessed one. "You want me, a mind-fucked feral berserker, to teach a kid control of her mutation."
"Yes."
"You're shitting me."
"I assure you, this request is serious." And so is his expression. Deadly fucking serious.
"What part of I lost control of my rage and almost offed Summers don't you understand Charlie?"
"Your feral rage, which you succeeded in overcoming most admirably by the way, was not responsible for the near disaster this morning. The main culprit was your lack of trust compounded by Scott's unfortunate error of judgement."
"Bullshit!"
"I'm not going to argue this point any further, Logan. Suffice to say, your actions since arriving at the school speak louder than any number of words and you have proven yourself more than adequate for the task. This is a delicate situation. At least listen to what Moira has to say before making a decision. While failure to convince you would be disappointing you will not be pressured into making any decision you feel uncomfortable with. And if your final answer is, indeed, a refusal then I want it to be for the right reason and rather than based on a false premise."
The vehemence of Xavier's delivery hits me in the face like a slap. I wonder how much of a choice I've got here.
"The right reason? What the heck is that supposed to mean?"
Xavier's reply is interrupted by a knock on the door. It opens and a slim, middle-aged woman with neatly bobbed auburn hair strolls leisurely into the room, preceded by a fresh infusion of stench from the hall. This has to be the mysterious Moira. Even a backwoods Canuck like me can see her pink cashmere sweater and pale grey trousers ooze class. Her natural feminine scent has been enhanced by the pleasant, vaguely spicy smell of organic products. Customary affectation or has she done her homework to create an impact? Beneath her delicately applied make-up there is a tightness in the skin around her vivid green eyes; a tightness I've seen on too many faces since returning from Alkali Lake.
Hot on Moira's heals is Maggie carrying a large tray laden with two steaming pots and associated paraphernalia. From the aromas wafting from the pots she has supplied both coffee and tea and I raise an appreciative eyebrow at the size of the mug sitting next to the two delicate bone china cups. Maggie smiles back, her brown eyes twinkling with gold highlights.
Placing the tray carefully on Xavier's desk she says, "There you go Charles. Earl Grey for Moira and yourself and strong black coffee for Logan."
"Thank you Maggie." Xavier says, inclining his head graciously.
Turning her attention to Moira, Maggie says, "I'll meet you in the garage later, pet and we can do some more catching up on the way into town."
Reading the mutually harmonious vibes surrounding the two women like an aura, it's plain to see they are old friends. Aware that I am very much an outsider in the company of these people I feel more isolated than usual but I ain't gonna let them use that against me.
"Will do, hen." Moira's Scottish brogue takes me by surprise. I'd assumed she was American or perhaps English. Last night I hadn't been close enough to catch her accent when she arrived, only the feminine quality of her voice.
Maggie winks at me and radiates cheerful encouragement, presumably to put me at ease. I get the distinct impression she approves of whatever's about to go down and feral instinct inoculates me against her charm. This is one tough crowd I'm dealing with and I got a sneaking suspicion I'm out of my damned depth here. Maggie exits the room but seems to emit a trail of ionised optimism in her wake that makes my scalp prickle. If she could bottle her metaphysical essence she'd be a very rich woman.
Xavier wheels himself out from behind the desk. "Before we get down to business I believe introductions are in order. Moira, this is Logan. Logan, this is Moira MacTaggert, a very dear friend of mine."
The light in Xavier's eyes informs me the relationship goes a lot deeper than dear friend. The pheromones they're giving off, while not those of arousal or desire, nevertheless hint at intimacy. They might be dear friends now but I'd give odds they were once lovers.
Moira walks towards me, her right hand outstretched to take mine. Her movement is fluid, lithe as a cat, carrying her gracefully across the few feet separating us. Taking my hand her own I find her touch is soft, warm and I notice her nails, while free of lacquer, are polished and satin smooth. Sunlight transforms her hair into a burnished red halo just a couple of shades darker than Jeanie's. Her skin glows with a healthy outdoor tan and, middle-aged or not, she's still a beautiful woman. Xavier has good taste.
She fixes me with her lively, intelligent eyes. "Pleased tae meet yeh, Logan."
Her voice is rich, soft and cultured, filtering through the air like a song. And God, she smells good. I let go her hand quickly. Jeezus it's been too long since I got laid.
"Uh, back at ya."
"Charles has told me so much about yeh."
"Is that a fact." I throw an angry glare in Xavier's direction. The bastard just smiles blandly at me.
"I'm here tae enrol my daughter at the school. Has Charles appraised yeh of Rahne's circumstances?"
What a weird label to hang on a kid. "Nope. Guess he wanted me to hear it straight from the horse's mouth."
"In that case," she casts a glance over her shoulder, "While I bring yeh up tae speed on matters, Charles can play Mother."
Mind quietly boggling at the thought of Xavier playing 'Mother', I breathe in Moira's delicious proximity and realise she isn't a mutant, she's a normal. That's when I my heightened olfactory sense latches onto it. Clinging to her clothing is the faint but undeniable odour of a hormonally charged pubescent girl. No doubt about it, the scent contains distinct and horrifyingly familiar undertones of feral.
"She's like me, ain't she?" I say without thinking.
The notion of dealing with a hormone-fuelled feral teenager fills me with dread. I'd sooner face off against a dozen Sabretooths. Xavier must need his fucking head examining if he thinks he's gonna dump this on me.
"You are uniquely qualified to help this young girl, Logan," Xavier chips in as he arranges the cups on the tray and picks up the teapot.
"So, no pressure, huh Charlie?" I observe with undisguised sarcasm.
Moira purses her rose pink lips and turns face Xavier. "I though yeh were leaving the telling of it tae me, Charles. What yeh been saying tae the lad that makes him look like he wants tae bolt from the room like a scalded cat?"
"Only that the ultimate decision is his to make, my dear."
"And so it should be." Returning her attention to me, her forehead slightly creased in a thoughtful frown, she continues, "There's nae denying yer acceptance will please me nae end but dinnae fash yersel' o'er refusing, d'yeh ken?"
I nod. Ain't gonna feel guilty about saying no at all.
She places her hand on my arm. "Come sit yersel' doon while we talk."
"I don't think so." Her touch is nothing more sinister than a friendly gesture but I don't like my personal space being invaded and stare at the offending limb. Realising she's made a mistake she withdraws quickly, her smile offering an embarrassed apology.
"I prefer to stand," I reply gruffly. And not just 'coz the air is fresher on this side of the room. Keeping my distance from these two is essential to keeping my resolve intact. I'm exhausted, I need my wits about me and I only trust Xavier's promise of non-coercion as far as I can shove his wheelchair up Summers' ass. That's to say, not far enough.
"Would you like some coffee, Logan?" Xavier enquires.
"No." I'd give anything for a beer though.
Xavier flashes me a knowing smile. You eavesdropping on my thoughts Charlie?
"We're none of us getting any younger here," I growl.
"I agree," Moira breezes. "Charles has explained some o' yer troubled past tae me…"
"I wish someone would explain it to me," I mutter darkly.
"…and I need tae reassure mysel' that taking advantage of yer personal experience will be the best option tae help Rahne through this crisis."
Reverse psychology! Christ, these two are well matched. Moira must be another fucking shrink. She's inverted our roles and suddenly I'm gonna be explaining and defending my skills like I'm pitching them to a prospective employer? Yer gonna haveta do better'n that, lady.
"I'm listening. Make yer case."
Moira accepts a cup of tea and folds herself gracefully into one of Xavier's over stuffed leather armchairs. She takes a couple of sips before putting the china down on a convenient table.
"Rahne is my adopted daughter, Logan. I have bought her tae the school so that she can be with others of her kind. But she has a problem controlling her mutation and I believe that yeh might be best qualified tae help her deal wi' this."
Might? I'm all they've got. Wish she'd quit playing her fucking games and talk straight. "What's her problem?"
"For want o' a better description, Rahne is a mutant werewolf."
The kid can wolf out? That's not a problem, that's a tragedy of epic proportions. I should know 'coz I'm more'n halfway there myself.
"I see." Moira's hesitant; she's struggling with some sort of personal dilemma. Something about the way her body language is slightly agitated and her eyes don't quite meet mine is so damn symptomatic. "So, you gonna tell me what the real problem is?"
Xavier beams at me encouragingly, like I'm a prize pupil or something. Fucking optimist.
Moira raises her delicate eyebrows in amazement. "Yer very astute Logan. Let me give yeh a potted history.
"Almost a year ago I discovered Rahne wandering the moors near my home. She was half starved and I dinnae think there was an inch o' skin on her that wasn't bruised or scraped. Her father, Reverend Sinclair, is or rather was, an Anglican minister fer the Church o' Scotland. Her mother died giving birth tae the poor wee lassie. Sinclair suffered a mental breakdown which radically altered his personality, changing him intae a religious maniac. He became delusional, believing his wife tae be the worst kind o' sinner, the reason why God punished her. Invariably his twisted reasoning told him the child was tainted wi' her mother's sin so, tae save her, he began tae beat the fear o' god intae her from an early age.
"When she was eight he beat her so hard it triggered an immature, partial manifestation o' her mutation. Witnessing his daughter sprouting large teeth and claws confirmed his fears and fuelled his delusion. God had given him a mission tae redeem his daughter, tae free her o' possession by an evil spirit. Sinclair spent the next five years trying tae beat the demon out o' her or destroy her in the attempt. He left the mainland and took up a ministry on a remote part o' Stornaway so that he could hide his shame. When Rahne reached puberty her mutation matured wi' her. One day he beat her and she fully transformed intae a wolf. Terrified o' his rage and unable tae control hersel' she bit and clawed her father and escaped."
"Shoulda killed the bastard," I growl. Sicko cocksuckers like that who beat up on kids are lower than scum.
Moira shakes her head. "That would ha' seen her locked up fer life and the key thrown away, Logan."
"She's entitled to defend herself."
"Rahne is a mutant, Logan. Nae matter how extenuating the circumstances, if she had killed her father she would ha' been imprisoned. As it was I had a tough time explaining tae the local constabulary that what happened was an accident."
"Yeah." I know through bitter experience how much cops like mutants.
"I took her in and alerted the authorities. Her father was arrested, declared unfit tae stand trial and is now detained indefinitely in a secure hospital. The local social services had nae idea how to cope wi' a mutant teenage werewolf so they willingly dumped their burden ontae me because, apart from Charles, I probably know more about mutants and the X gene than anyone else. Tae keep her safe I legally adopted her. She responds well tae kindness and she's very intelligent. However, she has a mortal fear o' the animal she becomes when threatened or angry. She has nae control over the wolf and I fear that, in her feral state, not only is she a danger tae hersel' but she might also be a danger tae others. Yer personal insight of the dual human/animal psyche and the heightened senses associated wi' the condition may be her only hope o' ever becoming integrated wi' society.
I've listened. I've observed Moira's sincerity. I am painfully aware of what unrestrained feral rage can do and sympathise with her predicament and that of her daughter. No kid should have shit like that happen to them and I'd tear the limbs off anyone I caught doing it. But I can't help the kid. Fuck, I don't even know how to help myself. Anger forms a cold, hard lump in my chest. Xavier discussed my mutation with this woman knowing full well she has a kid with feral attributes before consulting me. What fucking right did he have giving her false hope?
"I can't help her." I snap out more harshly than I intended. "The kid needs a expert help, not someone who's even more fucked up in the head than she is."
Xavier wheels himself closer. "There isn't a psychiatrist on the planet who can teach her to control her animal nature Logan. You are the one person best suited to help her."
All attempts of psychological manipulation have ceased. Xavier is now focused on appealing to the shred of nobility he's so desperate to convince me I possess. If it's there it's been too atrophied by rage, loathing and suspicion to respond. Suddenly I hate Xavier's smug logic. He's so fucking sure he has the answer to everything.
"Bullshit!" I face Moira, determined to make her see sense, see me for the animal I am. "I've no idea who I really am. My mind and body were torn apart and put back together in ways that ain't natural. I got a hole in my memory that Bill Gates could rent space in and still leave enough room to hold the Super Bowl and the World Series at the same time. I have a temper that makes Genghis Khan look like a prom queen. I've killed people; lot's of 'em. I've toured the Canadian cage fighting circuit for fifteen years and beaten men to a pulp for money because that is what I'm best at. I booze, I smoke and I like hot women. I'm more'n half animal and his morning I lost control of my feral rage and almost crushed Summers' skull. I ain't no role model for a kid and I ain't fit to teach her anything."
"Charles has already explained that tae me. I'm nae interested in what yeh do, only what yeh are and how yeh cope wi' it."
Damn! Does she wanna see her brat get hurt? Time to go for broke.
"Did Charlie tell you how I stabbed one of his kids?"
Moira's on her feet now, advancing on me, her green eyes flashing dangerously, her gaze intense, determined. "Whose life yeh later saved even though yeh knew it might cost yeh yer own. Stabbing Rogue was an accident that happened because yeh wasnae fully conscious and yeh hadn't expected the bairn tae be there. Saving her life was a conscious choice. Nae only that, yeh saved most o' the children from capture when the school was raided by commandos. Rahne will nae be hanging oot in yeh room tae get hersel' hurt. Yeh might have rough edges Logan but I know yeh've what it takes tae help Rahne."
The aversion therapy ain't working. Popping the claws of my right hand and ignoring the agony the action brings, I wave them under her nose. To her credit she doesn't flinch.
"These ain't fucking teaching aids."
"Aye, at least we've found something we can agree on." Moira folds her hand across her chest and rocks delicately back on her heels. She ain't gonna give up on the fight so easy.
"I feel sorry for the kid but the answer's gotta be no. I ain't gonna screw her life up more than it already is. I ain't gonna be responsible for shoving her over the edge."
"Logan," Xavier interjects, his tone level, calm and irritating. "You will not be alone in helping Rahne master her mutation because you will be working in conjunction with both Maggie and myself. At least take time to think about it, twenty four hours at least. You may feel differently tomorrow. Perhaps you should talk to Rahne in the meantime. What she has to say might help you put things in sharper perspective."
I gotta get out of this room. No longer propping up the wall I take a step towards Xavier. "I'll give you your twenty four hours, Charlie but I ain't gonna change my mind. For the kid's sake."
I turn and leave, closing the door very firmly behind me, almost gladly forsaking the fresh air of the study for the choking miasma in the hall. Pausing, I scrub my hand down my face, trying to gather my thoughts and cool my newly awoken anger. Xavier ain't gonna take no for an answer, despite his assurances I would be free to make the decision without interference. Suddenly I become aware of their muffled voices filtering through the door and vector my keen hearing to pick up what they're saying .
"…nae doubt Logan can help Rahne control her wolfiness but forcing the lad intae a corner isnae the way tae proceed wi' him. He's nae comfortable wi' the proposition, is tae smart tae be manipulated and isnae going tae give ground because yeh've the asking of it. He's nae great trust fer yeh, Charles and pressing him with yeh cleverness isnae the way tae his heart or his head.
"Rahne has the services o' you and Maggie, two o' the best psychologists in the business tae help her overcome the trauma her father visited on her. While there's nae doubt Logan can help the poor lassie wi' her wolfiness I recommend a cautious approach. According tae Maggie, the poor laddie's even more broken in the head than Rahne and it shows painfully. Push him tae hard and yeh'll lose him. Gi' him time tae get tae know the bairn and then maybe they'll get tae healing each other.
"You are quite correct Moira. Beneath that fierce exterior beats the heart of a good man. He simply needs time to get used to the idea. I'm confident Logan will make the right decision."
"I'm warning yeh, Charles. Don't push this. I believe Logan has already reached the right decision – as he sees it. And that refusal sounded bloody final tae me."
Good! Moira's a realist. Maybe if she hangs around the school long enough some of it'll rub off on Charlie. The kid is better off without my help.
"Then we'll just have to convince him otherwise, my dear."
I don't hang around to hear more.
Like I said – fucking optimist.
Love it or loathe it, please leave a review. Believe it or not, what you think really does matter to me. :0)