-I had some time after work so I thought I'd update again! I don't own anything cool related to the X-Men, but don't touch the OC! Unless you ask! :)

He looked up, the faint creak of a door swinging open catching his ears. He immediately slipped into the shadows of the building and waited. He had longed to feel the tingling, fuzzy feeling of his lungs repairing themselves as he puffed on another cigar but he didn't want to test her sense of smell. Finally, a strong wave of her scent washed over him and he relished it. That meant she was coming. He watched with sharp eyes, waiting for the slightest hint of movement. It had been almost twenty-four hours since he'd seen any movement around the house. Not even the tall grass of the yard seemed to sway with the wind.

There she was. She was wearing a gray dress with thin straps pulled over her shoulders. The dress stretched to her knees. He followed its hem to her hand, where another cigarette dangled idly. A leather bag was swinging from the opposite shoulder. He heard the faint clicking of metal against something but he wasn't sure where it came from. She glanced back and forth before trudging down the slightly sloped lawn of untrimmed grass. She took another long drag from her cigarette and allowed the smoke to pass through her nose. She had an intimidating presence. And he liked it. She glanced back and forth before crossing the small road and sauntered towards him.

Now, he could take her in. She was wearing dirty, low-top black and white Converses with frayed gray laces. She had several hemp anklets stacked on her bony ankles. She was wearing a dusky blue tank top underneath her dress. Her long curly hair was massed on her head, with long curls stretching from the bundle like tentacles. Her bag was dark leather, like he'd guessed, and the closer she stepped, the stronger the scent of cash grew. He was certain it was filled with her winnings from the week. She had a few hemp chokers tied around her neck and a few on each wrist. A lip ring, slightly off-center, accented her plump, pink lips. He heard the clicking sound much louder now. It was coming from inside her mouth. A tongue piercing, he guessed. She seemed to be a fan of piercings as she had several up and down each ear to match the facial ones.

"Din't I tell ya to fuck off?" she asked, stopping a few feet in front of him, and puffing on her cigarette again. Her warm, caramel skin was flawless and her eyes were a dazzling, moving array of colors. It was like a moving rainbow. They seemed to flash a brilliant red-orange when she spoke to him. The color settled and stayed stagnant.

"I wanted to buy you a drink," he said. Normally, he would've leapt at the chance to emotionally bruise her in some way but he couldn't bring himself to do it. All night he sat here and thought of their encounter, this moment. And that was not what he thought he would say. She took another puff on her cigarette, a long one, before dropping it and swiping her shoe over it. She looked at him expectantly, the red-orange flickering into a soft light green.

"You buy. Where's ya ride?" she asked, her eyes never leaving him.

"It's back at the bar. You can wait here, if you want, or we get both go get it," he replied. She clicked her tongue stud against her teeth impatiently. Now he could see it. She glanced up and down the street again and sighed. Her eyes drummed up into a yellow color. So they reflected her emotions. Red-orange was the anger he could almost feel resonating off of her. Light green was the step back, the contemplating of the situation and yellow was the buildup, the aggravation ready to erupt into anger.

"Come on," she sighed, turning and walking away from the bar. He followed her obediently, wondering how there could possibly be two bars in such a small town. She pulled a pack of cigarettes from somewhere on her person and slipped another one between her lips. She didn't light it but instead grabbed it between her fingers. They walked in silence up the road, finally turning onto a poor excuse for a main street. She shrugged the bag higher onto her shoulder before putting her cigarette back between her lips and walked up to the front door of a pub.

He shouldered his way in behind her and blinked, trying to adjust his eyes to the dim lighting. She shouldered past the tables to stop at the bar in the back. She nodded to the bartender who dropped a shot glass of whiskey in front of her. She looked to him expectantly and before he could answer, she nodded again.

"Come here often?" he chuckled. She ignored his question and took the cigarette from her lips before tipping her head back and demolishing the drink. He did the same and sucked in air as the liquor bit at his throat. The bartender walked over and poured them both another drink. "So, what 'chur name kid?" She turned and looked at him. She managed to slip onto a vacant barstool and rest her elbows on the bar. She threw back her head and swallowed again.

"Yours first," she replied, searching through her pockets. She found what she was looking for and lit her cigarette. "Ya are a stranger, after all." Her eyes flashed a brilliant shade of purple.

"Logan," he muttered. They stayed quiet, each idly twirling their glasses. The bartender moved to pour more but she shrugged him off and puffed silently. He wanted to ask her questions, to explore her power but he knew he couldn't do it. It was like an unspoken rule for them. They couldn't ask questions unless the other did first. She clicked her tongue stud impatiently.

"Whadda ya want Logan? To buy me a drink?"

"Well, yes and no. Just a name. I used to be a fighter too, cage matches," he said. She slammed her glass down and took a long pull on her cigarette.

"If yer here to try and get me to stop, you're making a mistake. I can handle myself. I'm not some meek little girl," she said. He could feel the anger radiating from her. "If that's why you're here, ya might as well leave."

"No, that's not why I'm here," he started. But why was he here? He wasn't sure if it was the feat of strength that the small female produced or if it was her intoxicating scent. Or could it be the attitude that made her confident? He knew a part of it was simply because she made the inner beast in him howl for comfort and contact. She raised her eyebrows at him expectantly. She was growing impatient and for one of the first time in his memory, he actually felt threatened by someone. "You can do whatever ya want, I'm not here to tell ya not to," he tried again. He shifted his position. She was an animal and that mattered to them. Body movements meant everything and he was stupid to have forgotten that. "I ain't here to hurt ya either. Can I just get yer name?"

She sucked on the cigarette and motioned for another drink. The bartender came over and obliged her.

"Aya."

-Thanks for the Story Alert adds! Review & I'll give individual shoutouts! A special one to GypsyWitchBaby! Thanks for the inspiration and the review!