Logan
Logan took another swig of beer and plonked himself down on a stool in the kitchen. It was his third bottle tonight and he wasn't even mildly drunk yet. Well that was one good thing about his mutation; he could drink the place dry and only get slightly tipsy. Not that it helped when he wanted to get completely plastered. Though the healing factor was nice. No need to stagger off to a hospital after a fight, well, in most cases anyway.
But what he hated were his claws. Well not his claws per say, but the history behind them. The history he still couldn't remember.
