-scene-

Logan locked the door, sliding the deadbolt into place as the last customer left for the night; though to call it 'night' wouldn't have been exactly correct, as the hands of the old wooden clock had just clicked past three.

Logan sighed deeply, shuffling the bottles behind the bar until his hand fastened around the familiar form of the scotch. A good scotch, he reasoned, was a lot like a good woman; strong, a good body and lots of fire.

He lovingly caressed the curves of the bottle while fishing for a clean glass.

"Shit," he cursed, finding none. He grumbled to himself, heading back into the kitchen, but was startled to find the kid hunched over the sink, practically asleep on his feet.

"Jesus, forgot he was here…" he mumbled to himself. He paused a minute before clearing his throat, reaching for his billfold.

The kid snapped to attention, dropping the glass he'd been mindlessly scrubbing back into the soapy dishwater. "Ah, desole, boss." He rubbed at his eyes blearily. "Guess Remy drop off a minute deya."

Without reply, the older man shoved a wad of bills into the kid's hand.

Remy froze, examining the money. "Boss, dis too much," he protested, pushing it back towards the man.

"What?" Logan demanded, "Y'ain't worth twelve bucks an hour? That's a hell of a lot less than I make."

Remy hesitated, considering the logic, but had no other choice as the older man turned away from him, snatching a glass off the rack and exiting the kitchen.

The boy blinked, startled. "B-boss!" he hurried after him.

The man slammed down the glass, filling it to the edge with the amber liquor.

"Go home. Get some shut-eye." He said gruffly. "I wan'cha back here at six."

The boy nodded enthusiastically and it was easy to see he was happy. "Merci!" he blurted, "Merci Bouquet!"

"Shit," Logan chuckled. "You wear yer emotions like boyscout badges, don'cha?"

"Don see no reason to hide how ah feel." He replied with a smile.

Logan fished for a cigar in his shirt pocket considering this. "That a fact?" he asked the air. "Hmm…"

The redhead toed the ground a second. "Hey boss…" he asked tentatively, "About early'a, jes wan to say-"

"Don' want ta talk about that." Logan replied gruffly.

"But boss," Remy continued.

"Ya' got ears, kid?" he shot, "I said It ain't up for discussion, now get outta here b'for I change my mind about keepin' ya around!"

"Ah, D'accord!" the young man yelped, leaping for the door.

He paused outside, glancing back to the building. "merci de l'aide je." he murmured. ((thank you for saving me))

-scene-

The next day passed in a familiar fassion. Logan alternated sleeping and drinking his anger away until noon rolled around and it was time to open the bar.

It wasn't long before his first customer showed up, a cocky smirk on his face.

"Good morning, sunshine." He greeted. "You're looking well…" He took a sniff of the air, "for someone who apparently bathed in booze last night."

"Shut yer yap." Logan growled, setting a glass before the man.

"Same." Warren told him, gesturing towards the shelf.

Logan rolled his eyes, grabbing a blue bottle and pouring two finger-widths into the glass, topping it off with a chilled lemon soda.

"I like it that way." Warren warned.

"Whatever. It's still froofy." Logan accused.

"Not everyone takes hard liquor with their morning tea." Warren retorted, glowering into his glass.

There was relative silence for a moment while Logan searched for his misplaced broom.

Finally, Warren broke the quiet. "That was an interesting display last night…" he began tentatively, feigning disinterest, "Grabbing Amos by the throat like that…"

"Was a bad night," Logan grunted in reply.

"He's a regular." Warren noted. "That's not good PR."

"Shut it." Logan replied. "It ain't sometin' we need to discuss."

"He apologized…" Warren offered.

Logan exploded. "He's a goddamn pervert! A useless, goddamn pervert! He comes in here, orders the cheapest drink, assaults my waiter-!"

"Your waiter?" Warren raised a questioning eyebrow. "That's pretty possessive considering you didn't even want to hire him yesterday."

"Yesterday n' today are too different things, an' one's got nothin' ta do with the other." Logan huffed irritably.

"Mmm," Warren nodded. "So your temper would have nothing to do with that young, lanky, redheaded piece of innocence you had waltzing about here last night?"

"Feh! Innoccent my ass..." Logan retorted, still on his crusade to find the broom. "Kid's a fucking natural."

"What are you implying?" Warren pressed, knowing full well.

"I'm just sayin' he sure seems to have some experience with… customers." He drawled the word.

"You're saying he's a whore." Warren elaborated.

"I ain't sayin' nothin… just seems to know the ways a' things." He replied calmly, then turned to face Warren. "But that ain't the sorta joint I run an' you know it."

Warren studied his friend for a moment. "Oh, so then this has nothing to do with your jealousy?"

"Jealousy!" Logan shouted. "Fer what? I got everything I want!"

Warren laughed, taking a sip of his "froofy" drink. "So you're denying you're attracted to the boy."

Logan's face paled. "A- a WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU ON ABOUT!" he bellowed, turning away quickly. "That's the most- Yer lucky I don't- WHERE IS THAT GODDAMN BROOM!"

"In de broom clo-set." Came the answer.

Logan spun around quickly, facing the door where the young redhead was standing.

"I tol' ya ta come in at six." He snapped.

"Remy know you did." He shrugged. "Ah got no-tin to do 'till den. Figua mebbe dey sometin ah ken do heeya."

Logan paused. "How long ya' been standin' there?" he demanded.

Remy thought a moment. "Handfull o' seconds, ah fig'ya."

Logan hesitated, then nodded. "Fine. Well… why don'cha sweep the floor then."