"So what do you do here?" I ask conversationally as we walk down the quiet halls.

Logan shrugs. "I hang around, help when I'm needed. Mostly I train the students."

We walk past a few classrooms, if the comfortable rooms filled with eager students can be called that, and I'm amazed at how relaxed everyone seems to be. It's almost too perfect to believe.

"Training?" I say, just now hearing what he said.

"Mm-hmm," he says, leading me through a short little corridor. "This is the kitchen. It's stocked for student use. You can cook or eat whatever you want."

"Wow." I look around the well-organized and spotless kitchen. "Are you sure kids are allowed in here?"

Logan gives a little snort. "It looks clean now, but wait till you see it at lunch." He goes over to the fridge and grabs a coke. "Ain't nothing stronger than this," he replies to my raised eyebrow.

"Ahh, I see. Naturally."

We walk through the second floor of the mansion (which is what this grand house is) and I discover that it's all bedrooms, serving as a dormitory for the students and the teachers.

"Who funds all this?" My head feels dizzy from all the times I spin around, trying to take it all in.

"The Professor is a very wealthy man."

"Oh." It makes sense. Suddenly, a thought hits me. "Hey Logan," I say as we head back down the main stairway and out the front doors. I guess he's going to show me the grounds as well.

"Hmm?" He seems preoccupied, but I decide to ask anyway.

"If the Professor is a telepath, doesn't that mean he can read minds?"

We reach a bench underneath a big oak tree and Logan sits down, his long legs sprawled in front of him in a careless manner. "What of it kid?"

"Well," I say, sitting down beside him. "Why didn't he just read my mind then, instead of asking me all those questions?"

Logan turns to me, his face serious. "Would you have wanted him to? How would you feel about someone poking around in your mind without your permission?"

I bite my lip. I've offended him. "I wouldn't like it."

He takes a swig of his coke and nods. "Chuck's a good man. He respects people, genuinely cares about them."

I realize I still have my bag over my shoulder and take it off, setting it down by my feet. "Yeah, seems that way." I glance back towards the mansion. "What do you guys do here? It can't be just a school. It seems… more important somehow."

"For a kid, you notice a lot," says Logan, giving me what I've now decided must be a trademark Logan look. I feel slightly queasy. But in a good way. I think. "Some of the teachers here are part of a team called the X-men. I'm sure you've heard about it."

I nod. "On the news, sometimes. But not a whole lot is known."

Logan shrugs. "There isn't that much to know. We try to keep a war from exploding between humans an' mutants, stop the bad-guys whenever they pop up, and generally try to keep the peace."

"Cool." I look at Logan with new respect. "So you guys are kind of like superheroes, huh?"

Logan gives a derisive snort. "It's not as romantic as that, kid. We're just trying to do what's right; keep a lot of people from getting hurt."

I scowl at him. "I have a name you know. How would you like it if I called you 'Man' all the time?"

Logan flashes me a grin, which I can't help but note is very sexy. "I've been called worse. What do you want me to call you then?"

I shrug. "Wish will be fine."

"All right then, Wish. I think it's time to head back. Classes should be done for the day, and you should get used to everybody."

We start walking back. "Hey Logan," I say, breaking the silence.

He growls a little. "Jeez kid, you sure talk a lot."

"Sorry. And it's Wish." I look up at him. "What's your mutation? You don't look any different from normal people."

Logan snorts. "Most mutants don't." Suddenly, he brings his hand close to my neck, and I suck in my breath. Long silver claws have come out from between his knuckles, slicing through the skin, and I hear a soft 'snick' somewhere in the area of my collar . He moves his hand back, and I can see the claws withdrawing. "You had a loose thread on your jacket."

"Wow…" I try to collect myself. "That's intense." I must admit, I'm staring freely at his hands. "Does it hurt? When they come out?"

Logan face is serious. "Every time."

"Then why do you do it? Why not just keep them inside, so they don't hurt you?"

Logan gives me a long look, then speaks, his voice serious. "Listen, gifts are made to be used. My claws are useful; they protect the ones I love."

I nod quickly, somewhat unsettled by the sudden change in his demeanor. "Gotcha."

We walk the rest of the way back without speaking, but I'm beginning to feel the beginnings of warm fuzzy feelings toward Logan, this sexy, and kind of scary, man I've known less than a few hours.