It was always in Logan's nature to act on instinct and to do so bluntly. He didn't make time for tears or to listen to any bullshit that came with sensitivity. He liked that about himself. It gave him a height on others and made him an honest man. But it would tear him in a nearly tangible sense if he admitted that he was a little disappointed that his ostensibly only daughter was so anxious and timid in nature, especially given her mutations.

Granted she was young, he knew this, but shouldn't she also realize by know he has a genetic protective disposition? Despite what he thought would be comforting enough, he found her more often than not in a state of subtle fear. She didn't act out or even let it manifest on a grand scale; they were subtle variations that only Logan's keen precision senses could detect. She was admittedly making progress, though, as she had lost her discomfort with Jean and Ororo. She had ostensibly pictured Jean and Scott as her secondary parental set that she had hoped to keep placed upon the shelf. She saw Ororo as someone she wanted to be one day. But she would never place them near the level Logan resided.

She had taken to the outdoors immensely for the summer. It was in the middle of June and the weather had never been so optimal. Summer courses had been taking place outside, of which would often disrupt designated relaxation areas of lounging staff and students on their free time. On the weekends the grounds were calmer and dispersed. Those were the hours where Shortie would wander about the perimeter of the building and do her thing in the gardens.

She wasn't always aware of it but Logan had kept a constant watch on her whenever she ventured outside. He would watch out the windows, sometimes on the roof when he felt less acrophobia, just making sure she was okay. He would never acknowledge the level of care he had felt develop and grow. He didn't want any bit of it but he had no choice.

Today she had crossed a line, though. It was practically petty but he had lost his sixth shirt in the time he picked her up. He had lost his last AC/DC shirt, Thunderstruck. She had been eating a bowl of fruit for her lunch on the counter in the kitchen, wearing it with a mischievous grin when she saw his scowling eyes dart at the shirt. Her blue eyes shined him a sucker and finished lunch. He picked her up and demanded it back.

"Come on, you know you have your own damn clothes. Ain't they enough?"

"What should I do, get naked for everyone?" She jabbed.

"Don't be a smart ass!" That was his thing.

"I would actually rather be naked."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Because I'm not naked." She started pulling at her shirt and he immediately halted her, his original intentions backfiring.

"Shit. Fine, wear the fucking shirt, it's the least I can give ya." He dropped her and went about himself. She ran for outside to do whatever she had been doing before. He smelled a heavy scent of rain in the air today. He smelled a lot more than a usual pour; he figured it to be a storm. He started walking out to the yard and looked around for her. He hadn't heard her but he could still smell her and found her laying about in a small flower bed. She was just a damn poster child of beautiful. He was proud of that.

"Hey, kid, get inside. It's gonna be raining soon."

"So? You let me in the rain before."

"This one's a storm, darlin. Come on, we'll take a nap or something."

"There was no thunder or lightening! Please?" She reasoned. He looked at the gray yet vibrant sky. He hadn't seen or hear any storm clouds if he had to be honest. Against his usual instinct, he once again gave in to her pleas. He was never consistent in the sense he wanted to be.

"Fine. But as soon as I hear something your ass is inside."

She hadn't been paying attention to him as a butterfly flew by her face. She got up and walked over to the blue and black-winged insect. She delicately picked it up and placed it on her nose. It stayed and opened then closed its wings on her face. It flew to higher than she could reach. She slowly walked around in a circle. This oddly amused Logan. He loved watching her innocently wander about her world.

She had stopped walking for a second before she felt herself briskly be thrown from where she stood, blinded by a white flash. As she hit the ground she felt a burning sensation in her leg and felt her shoes fly off. Logan hadn't even realized what the hell he saw for a while, not being able to comprehend that she had been literally struck by lightening. She lay on the ground. He felt immense despair in lengths previously unseen by man as he held her in his arms. Her eyes were open in a second as she looked into his worried eyes. He hugged and kissed her all over in his arms at her synaptic responses in tact. She laughed at the tickle it provided.

He let her go, and to his astonishment, she walked out of his embrace. She hadn't fully healed yet but she wasn't that badly injured to begin with. In an act of proud defiance she flashed a small middle finger towards the sky. He had laughed like a son of a bitch at that.

"What's that for, sweetie?"

"Thunder and lightening can't get me. Suck it!"

He had paled at her language she undoubtedly picked up from him. She was too young to correctly use it, but he had said it enough. She took Logan's hand and triumphantly walked back into the mansion with an unbelievable story to tell. He would vouch for her, because he would never believe it if he had never seen if for himself. He was unbelievably proud of her newfound courage, and hoped that it would carry through for her more. But one conclusion was for sure.

This parenting was going to be the death of him.