Excuse the delay, a wonderful holiday weekend happened. There was alcohol, shopping, movies, homemade pie and my hub's ex being an idiot on TV involved so as you see, it was filled with fun and action. The good thing is, it inspired me for a few more chapters down the road. Wee.

Thank you to all you lovely, beautiful and awesome people who commented on the last chapter, see this half naked Logan flex his muscles just for you. If we are done trailing that drop of sweat making it's way from the hairline down the neck and across the muscles of chest and abs... I got lost in that for a moment :D Anyway, I'd like to apologize in advance. I hope I won't be stalked and beaten by hobbits but this depicts an Irish Pub I actually worked at. ^^


Yep. They sure hate me those cocky little pricks. At least they now know that they shouldn't go around telling everyone how great and powerful they are until they have spent a danger room session with me. One of them had the nerve to demand that I let him out. Because he's a mutant and doesn't need any hand to hand combat yadda yadda. I asked him if he would like to die in a very unpleasant way, like being impaled. Still one of my all time favorite threats. A nice change to all the gutting and skinning, you got to keep some variety. So I had them fight one on one, unfortunately they started to carefully slap each other, there's no other way to describe it. The rest of the class had a lot of fun watching that. Too bad it made me only angrier. Them trying to worm their way out of fighting against me, too. I'm really proud of myself for not hurting them-at least not in a way that is against the danger room rules.

A session like this can only be topped by doing phys ed with a bunch of fifteen year olds. Because you have to wear a helmet or constantly duck with all these hormones flying around. You got girls giggling and whispering and boys getting googly eyes over a god damn pair of teeny legs. They look like foals. I honestly doubt I have ever been that way.

It's just those two classes but they already have me considering to pack up and leave. If there wasn't something I needed to do I would. After my second shower of the day I call Marie, I just hope she has good reception because I hate cell phones. Try calling someone when you have ears like mine. Not very pleasant.

"Hello?"

"Still planning to get drunk tonight?"

"Hell yes."

"Mind trading three girls for me?"

"That is a very crappy bargain and you know it."

"What if I pay?"

"You try to buy me? Nice."

"Is that a yes?"

"I heard that growl. I guess it is, yes."

"I pick you up at eight."

And I hang up. I don't like phones at all. Because I can't see or smell the person I'm talking to and a good deal of the judging I do happens to be supported by evidence my other senses give me. And those damn cell phones are something I will never really understand. Why do I want to listen to music with one? Or take pictures. I'm not exactly the type of guy you see taking pictures of something interesting or my friends somewhere. Because one I don't have friends and two I don't take pictures. Especially not with a cell phone. Why do we have real cameras then?

And those phones are so damn small you try to press one button and press three. I will stick to landlines until someone comes up with a useful idea.

Time passes relatively quick and so I find myself in the hallway again, it smells like cabbage now and I hear the old lady shuffle behind the door, trying to get a good view through the spyhole. I resist the urge to poke one of my claws through it and knock on Marie's door instead.

Seems like she's been waiting already, because she opens within about two seconds of my last knock, all ready to go. And I am glad that she owns decent clothes. Because unlike last night at the club, she doesn't look like a hooker. Not that I don't appreciate the minimum amount of fabric on a womanthat passes as "dressed"-just not on her. She isn't the type for that. And I would have been more than willing to convince her of that by, let's say, locking her into her room for a few days or until she came out dressed properly, whichever came first. Knowing her, it would have been weeks.

She leads me out of the house and into a small pub two blocks down the street. Like everything in this area, it looks a little grimy, but good enough to be a few classes above the bars I usually pick. Somebody must have gotten his hands on the Irish pub catalog and ordered one each because... wow. This is stuffed. With little leprechauns, clovers, you name it, they have it. She heads straight for a booth framed with Guinness tin signs and knick knacks and I hope they don't just have the "typical" stuff. I hate Paddy. Tastes like... I don't know. Just don't like it.

"Rogue! What can I get for you and...your friend?"

If the fat little guy would have had red hair I think I would have left. But it's black and he's wearing a ridiculous green vest. But if he thinks that works for him, alright then. And I don't know what to think about the name drop yet. She must be a regular from the sound of it. My eyebrow hitches up automatically at that thought and she smiles at me. The sweetest smile she's got, too.

"You got steak?"

Fatty nods.

"I'll take that and a beer."

"I take a beer and the crazy fries. And say hi to Kody while you pass our order through."

That did sound like a threat.

"Of course I will hun."

And he wobbles away. Seeing how it is difficult for him to walk with his fat tub I will refrain from hurting him for what he just said. I think someone needs to explain.

"What was that all about? Want to keep the cook from spitting into our food?"

She giggles. I don't get it. Why can't she start being as predictable as everyone else. Is that too much to ask?

"Something like that. He better take one of the good steaks and not one of those full of fat and yuck. And if you order a beer around here you'll get a lager someone like you might not appreciate. Sheamus will make sure we get something that doesn't taste like nail polish."

"So you're a regular?"

She grins into her scarf.

"You could say that, yes."

The urge to smash something is rising. So I take out a cigar and light it, everything to keep my hands busy. And away from her throat. As if to mock me, she has just taken off that green scarf.

"And by that you mean...?"

"I work here."

Okay. Better than taking her clothes off, I have to admit that. But not as good as it could get, she should definitely rethink her career choices. Especially when I see those old guys there at the bar.

"Huh."

"That's all you have to say?"

Actually, no. I have all kinds of things to say to her right now, but there is not one thing I am willing to say out loud. I don't do long talks and there isn't much I can give her grief for. She's grown up and doesn't do anything illegal. So I'll shut my trap. About time someone changes subjects here.

"How's your eye?"

She frowns. I like that a lot better than the giggly girl. I know this. I can deal with it, it is familiar territory, carefully mapped out in countless fights.

"You know damn well how it is. You let me borrow your powers, remember."

Our food arrives and it smells good. I dig in without paying much attention to the huffing and mumbling young lady on the other side of the table. She knows I'm not the one for talks. That and I am staring down a guy who doesn't want to pry his eyes off her. Maybe I should talk to her about the advantages of baggy sweaters. This shirt she wears is a little tight. And the fact that she didn't button up those very important upper buttons isn't helping here.

"That guy is scared of you already Logan. Leave him alone."

Her hand on mine brings my attention back to our table. I ate everything without noticing it.

"So... you found out a few things, huh."

"Yeah. Some of it I'd rather forget again."

"That bad?"

"You don't wanna know."

"Some of it I already do."

She points at her head and smiles. How anyone could share my memories and not bolt I don't get. But then again, it's Marie. She's never been like anyone else.

"So, you work at a pub that's more Irish than some Irish and I found out that women in my life tend to get killed, preferably by me. I'd say we drink to that."

Two hours later she plays with a little shot glass and rolls it around the table lazily.

"So, you're really over hundred years old?"

I lean back and empty my beer. Have lost count and frankly, don't care. We've been busy drinking and talking. Never thought I could have such a good time doing things I hate with someone I like.

"yep."

She starts laughing out loud and almost slides off her bench. My eyebrow reacts to that without my consent.

"What's so funny?"

"Just remembered how everyone kept telling me that you were too old for me. Boy if they had known..."

In a hysterical fit she almost knocks out Sheamus, the fat little Irish guy with the remarkable fake accent he only drops at our table. He just brought us some coffee we didn't order. Irish coffee if my nose is correct, of course.

"But seriously. Aside from the fact that you were even too old to date my nan, you are the most decent guy I ever met. Why can't there be more guys like you?"

Because maybe there is a god after all. I'm sure he wouldn't want that to happen.

"Don't you have a little brother or something."

Her tongue darts out and she grins.

"Well, I do have a brother. But he's older. Half brother, to be precise. You already met him."

Her eyes widen and I see her trying to figure out who it could be.

"Sabretooth."

"Get out!"

And that we did. After half an hour of more banter and her being not quite as drunk as she probably would have been on any other day, without some leftover current of my healing ability in her body. We head for her apartment and she stops to look at my bike and sigh.

"I've always wanted to ride one."

"You haven't?"

With that horribly high number of bad guys in her life I'd figured she would have been taken out for a ride or... fifty. She shakes her head and I make another of those decisions you shouldn't make without thinking.

"Get on then."

Oh and JohnPaulGeorgeandRingo... you owe me a truckload of booze. Make it Jack if you can LOL