Logan, Lunair, and the Likeable Summers Brother

12 March 2015: Logan's return is met by a dainty dinosaur, an old friend, and a full torso cast.


Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters



Mood Music:

A weary looking man pulls up to the front of the Xavier School. His eyes are bloodshot, and he looks like he could use a good night's rest. The man wipes his eyes, and says in a thick Pakistani accent, "we are here, sir." The passenger, who sat up front, reaches into his back pocket, and hands the driver a wad of cash before opening the door. "The extra's fer you, and fer a night at a hotel. You earned it, bub."

As tired as the driver is, he furious counts the money, wanting to be sure that he got what he was owed. By the time he has a total, he knows he not only got what was owed, but a generous tip. Meanwhile, the passenger is already making his way to the doors of the mansion. For a moment, he debates whether to ring the door, or just open it. Technically, he does live there, but he's spent more time away than he has in it.

The driver and the taxi begin to slowly peel away. Logan had no luggage. But by the licence plate, it looks like he must have hailed a taxi in Chicago. Why wouldn't he have flown? It would certainly have been faster. In the end, Logan tries to turn the knob to see if it's unlocked.

Sometimes she worked as a hitman. Somedays… Well. Lunair doesn't really do that anymore. Nothing she talks about or admits to. But do Nazis really count? Lunair keeps odd hours, though, and seems to be deep in thought, sort of ambling back and forth. Pacing, really. She has a tiny dinosaur, a small cousin of a pterodactyl on her shoulder. He looks baffled as she pace, pace, paces. Maybe Lunair is waging a subtle, quiet war on the carpet. "… I'm going to get some ice cream." Why not? She loves the rose flavoured ice cream and goes for the door.

And then suddenly, what greets her is about as far as ice cream as one can get. Gonk. Her expression - she actually has one this time - is one of confusion. One eyebrow lifted, one eye a bit wide, the other lowered and narrowed.

The bird-dino cheeps and Lunair remembers her manners. "Hi! Wow, you look out of it. Do you want anything to drink? You should come inside." She steps aside to let him in.

Alexander Summers was not bed-ridden any longer from the multiple broken ribs that he suffered literally by the hand of Juggernaut. He's sitting on a plush couch in a room off the main-hallway. A living-room of sorts. He's spread out in a full torso cast, endlessly flipping the channels with a disgruntled look on his face. He had been to war countless times, so laying on the couch injured was becoming a powerful skill of his.

When Logan arrives, his blue gaze flickers to the door-way, offering a faint nod to the unfamiliar man.

Lunair earns herself a blank stare when she says that Logan 'looks out of it'. He looks perfectly normal, well rested, as if he just got out of bed. That might explain the hair. But the taxi driver on the other hand, he looked desperately tired. A twelve our car ride will really take it out of a person when they don't have a healing factor.

"You got Molson's, Lunair?" He asks, remembering her name, and wondering if they have what he reflectively insists on calling beer. You'd think when someone's lived as long as he has, that he'd develop a better palate, but no, he just likes his Molson Canadian.

Looking at the thing on her shoulder, he says, "nice bird," having a good idea that it's not a bird, but really, what should he call it? And he heads in to the living room to get a look at the guy in the torso cast, "I hope she was worth it," he says with a grin, and offers a hand carefully, "name's Logan."

Lunair blinks. Huh. Headtilt. "Yeah, we do. I'm not supposed to get into it. But it's there." She's totally good about not getting into the booze, at least. "Did you want me to grab one?" She notices him introduce himself, after all. She doesn't seem bothered by blank stares. And really, taste is relative. Lunair doesn't know enough about a lot of things to rank them. She likes what she likes.

"Thanks. He's a dinosaur." Cheep. "The Savage Land was kinda weird." But fun! She hasn't really talked about it much. And then as Logan jokes about asking if she was worth it, the sudden image of Juggernaught in a cocktail dress floods Lunair's mind and she gets a distinctly horrified look on her face. Hopefully no one's reading minds in the vicinity. "Oh! Um. Sorry. I didn't notice you there," That's to Alex. "Did you want anything while I'm up? Otherwise I …" Pause. She goes quiet to think about that and try to erase that mental image.

Alex wasn't the most social mutant-being in the world, so when the two exchange pleasantries, Alex's attention refocuses on the television, which is now playing a prime-time news story about a famous cat being stuck in a tree all day. "Pfft…" Alex rolls his eyes at the absurdity of the news, before noticing Logan approaching. He adjusts his weight just a bit, before offering his hand, "Pleasure to meet you sir. Names Alex Summers."

Reaching in-between the cushions, Alex retrieves a flask, "I've got some Black Label Scotch." A mischievous wink is offered to the man. He did look like a scotch guy after all.

To Lunair, Alex shakes his head, "No thank you. You've been doing too much for me, I already have a list full of I.O.U's for you."

Alexander takes a moment to think of a good response to Logan after he offers the scotch, "Well, I suppose I did get in her way. Juggernaut does hit like a girl." He laughs for a second before gripping his side in momentary regret.

"That's all right. Just point me in the right direction and I can get it." He just wants the cold one. And if it's not, Bobby's great to have a round. Thinking of which, where is the human popsicle?

"Oh yeah, a dinosaur?" He takes it very well, almost as if he knew about the Savage Land. Of course, now that he thinks about it, he did mention the Savage Land the first night he met Lunair. Funny how his memory is super hazy, and super clear, depending on what he's trying to remember. "What's the little guy's name?"

Logan will reach out to brush a finger against the little guy's back, remembering that the big ones like that and hopefully the little ones do too. Knowing his luck, he may bite the hand that pets him.

And when Alex introduces himself as Alex Summers, with emphasis on the surname, Logan grins taking a swig of the scotch, "Another Summers. Huh, you got my sympathies pal." Oh, he does not like Scott, not one bit. Someday, he's really got to get that shaft surgically removed from his behind. Where's Magneto when you need him?

Memories are funny like that. They are often compared to rivers, due to their ebbing and flowing nature. Such is life. Lunair is generally pretty sociable, but life in a single set of rooms has left her wanting. But she also seems happy enough to quietly hang out with those less social, too. Funny how it works out.

She tilts her head at Alex. "If you're sure. And… don't sweat it. You're in a cast and I don't get the feeling you have those weird brainy moving powers," Hand waves for emphasis. "Granted. I was never in a cast." There's a moment, as her face goes blank. Some long lost memory surfacing, and she settles quiet. She nods at Logan. "Sure, fridge is-" And she points it out. Fortunately, Sir Philbert von Cheepington is a pretty docile critter. He did land on Lunair's head and now he's closing his eyes as Logan brushes a finger against his back. Aw yiss. Happy dino.

"I think he likes you." Nod and a smile. "Philbert von Cheepington." It's dreadfully silly. She is quiet as the two chat, though. Perhaps curious. Perhaps watching. Social skills penalties are rough, man. "How are you feeling, anyhow?" That's in general, perhaps.

Alex tilts his head towards Logan when he speaks of his family, but instead of getting flustered, he quirks a grin and takes a big glug of that scotch. He cringes, but only for a second. "Ah. Good year." Exhaling deeply, the man tilts his head, "Another fan of my brother, eh?" He chuckles again, "He can be a bit of a prick-hole…" Snorting at his own comment, he shakes his head, "Ok… a lot of a prick hole… but he means well. Most of the time…"

Glancing towards Lunair with a humorous expression, he comments, "If only."

Alex resumes flipping through the channels, totally un-frazzled by the gruff man.

"Nice ta meet ya, Philbert von Cheepington." The dinosaur does seem to like him. He's pretty good around them, knowing just how to treat them, what they like, and how to make them know that he means them no harm. "I've got a way with animals," he admits, before heading off in search of that beer.

When he returns, it will be with a six pack of Molson's. He might want more, and he brought some to share in case either of them want to drink. Sure, Lunair might not be old enough to drink in New York, but in Canada, where the beer came from, she would be legal, and that's good enough for him.

He'll offer one to Alex, popping the top since the man's in a case, another to Lunair, but none for Philbert. There's no telling what a beer might do to Philbert, especially considering how small he is.

"Alex, you got Family Guy on any of those channels?" Even the Wolverine likes Seth MacFarlane's work.

Lunair is quiet, listening. "He just strikes me as really determined. Sometimes that means forgetting other people's goals and limits, I guess. I don't know," Lunair seems pretty okay with Scott, all in all. "He did seem kind of unhappy with the list of Nazis I had to deal with." Shrug. Oooh well. That's how it goes, huh? Lunair smiles at Alex's comment and expression.

Philbert cheeps back at Logan. "I see. Neat. I did meet a crab. Named him Pinchbro. Beast is helping me set up a tank." Lunair seems to like critters, too. She watches him come back. "Thanks. I'll try it." Lunair seems pretty open minded, really. The world is an oyster and she is … going to … try the oyster. Yup. She does not try sharing with Phil. She will peer at the TV and Alex. Huh.

Alex accepts the beer with a gracious nod, "Thank you, Logan." Glancing at the label he chuckles, "The Canadian Marines always drank this stuff warm over in Iraq. Crazy bunch, those guys." Tipping it back, Alex chugs half the beer before he can even respond to the question, "Hmm. I think I saw one of the younger kids watching it last night while everyone was supposed to be asleep." He tosses the remove over to Logan, just assuming that he's going to catch it, "Check under pre-recorded shows."

Logan's probably dealt with more Nazis than Lunair, but he's not one to brag, or bring up just how old he really is. Logan resumes petting Philbert after setting the leftovers of the six pack, and getting one for himself. "Philbert, Pinchbro, Cyclops, Lockheed, this place is gonna seem like a zoo if yer not careful there, darlin'." Did he just describe Scott as a zoo animal? Yep, he did. Come for the Savage Land dinosaurs, but stay for the one eyed man with a stick up his backside.

A curious look is given to Alex when he references Canadian marines. He's not as well up on the Canadian military as he used to be, but he's reasonably certain that the proposed Marine Commando Regiment is still a pipedream. Could Alex mean Joint Task Force 2, the Canadian Special Operations Regiment, or it could have just been a regular Canadian unit that was so good, Havok figured they had to be marines. That was probably the case. They may not have the best equipment, or the most numbers, but Canada has always prided itself on having some of the best trained soldiers. "Warm Molson's? Go figure."

Lunair smiles at the two. "Really?" She seems curious about the story. She nods and hms to Alex. There's a bit of sympathy. "I am pretty sure unless others like me were made, I'm an only kid. But you don't strike me as the type to be deliberately cruel. I am sure you will get to catch up. If you wanna." Yes. "I don't know him well. But … not all heroic people are super friendly snuggle cuddletits. I'm not sure where I heard that word." Ponder. She shrugs it off.

And it's true. Logan has. She smiles. "Do you want to hold him? He might flap over or walk onto your hand," She warns. "I won't keep too many. Pinchbro was there when the Atlanteans started invading. I wasn't gonna let him get stepped on. Also, the legion of naked, dancing Atlanteans is entirely coincidental and I know nothing." Her poker face brings Gaga-sensei much shame. Owch. But the crab part? true. The coincidental? Not so much.

Well. Let's try this beer thing. She seems a bit sceptical and quizzical looking for a moment. Then… a taste. Hmmm. "… interesting." Yes.

Carefully extending his arm, Logan offers a perch for Philbert. The dainty dinosaur could flap on over, but when offered, uses the bridge to walk, chirping merrily. Most animals appreciate affection, and dinosaurs prove to be no different. Logan's got some experience in that department, though his only looked like a dinosaur. Lockheed technically is something altogether different, but who's checking.

"Atlanteans? Namor McKenzie or Arthur Curry?" He asks, knowing that there are in fact multiple Atlantis', Atlantese, what would be the plural of Atlantis? Someone should really get on that. "What were they after, anyhow?"

Lunair smiles as Philbert walks on over. Aww. Pals! Lunair seems happy Logan and the dino are getting along. She looks to Logan. "Well, it's kinda weird. I heard that Aquaman got shot or killed or something. So some of his people got kind of upset and weelll… Though, the lady who came up to find the culprit was nice. Ferocious, but nice. At heart." Ponder. "Also I had to shoot at Deadshot with a rail gun and things got kind of hairy." Boy, the adventures Lunair gets up to without supervision. "Some guy named Orm? I guess. I dunno. He was droppin' darkness all over, but Aquaman yelled at him and I think he got cast out. It was really sad. At least Aquaman seems okay now, and was back." She's not entirely familiar with it.

Superman, Aquaman, Spider-Man, who comes up with these names? Wolverine's at least makes sense. Someone once said he fought like a Wolverine. It became a nickname. It stuck. What's Aquaman's story? "Atlanteans don't go down too easy, an' it's even harder to keep 'em down," says Logan when he hears about how Aquaman was shot. For a moment, the reference to a rail gun goes over his head. He knows about them, in theory. He didn't know anyone actually built one. Supposedly you could hit the moon with one of those things.

"Wait a minute, did you say you fired a rail gun at somebody?" Maybe what he heard about them is a gross exaggeration. But when you say you could hit another celestial body, it makes someone pay attention. Taking a seat in a chair as the channel's continue to be flipped, he sips at his beer. "Your grades all right, Lunair?" She is a student. What's she studying?

Alex had been in a confused stupor for a long moment, having slipped down in his seat so that his head was leaning against the couch instead of his back. He wiggles his way back up in his seat after having finished the beer. He had been listening to the conversation quietly, unwilling to admit to anyone that he was indeed stuck in one position.

Lunair got her codename after several weeks of debating, finding most of them were taken and dislodging most of the worst possible puns. "Yeah, they really are crazy strong. But they're kind of nice at their hearts," She offers. There's a pause. Lunair looks puzzled. "Sure, it's electromagnetic…" Cue a small spiel. "Mine's considerably smaller than one you'd mount on a boat, though," She admits.

But it might be odd she can figure out how it works and make it work. She nods. "Sure. Though, in fairness, he was trying to kill us all and hiding behind cement. Fortunately, he got knocked out and the Atlantean lady took him." Hey, it's not killing, right!? "Huh? Yup, pretty good. Botany is easy." She's actually incredibly smart. But there /are/ downsides to having more social penalties than a kobold on fire in a miniskirt. Though, since Alex has been so quiet, she looks over. "Are you okay? I think you nodded off. Want help back out or something? I should probably get to my room shortly anyway. I have a class tomorrow. But it was fun to see you two."

"If you want a hand with that Lunair," meaning Alex Summers, "just ask." He could easily carry Alex, though Lunair offered first, so he just offers to assist. For all he knows, it's good for Alex to walk partially under his own power. Logan knows first aid, but nothing about long term medical care. He can help out, but he's never had to go through it himself.

"Botany huh? So you got a green thumb. I bet this place has one hell of a garden." He's had the tour, he lives here, and yet, there's so much he doesn't know about it. He should sort that out. "Maybe you shouldn't have mixed drinks there, bub." Heh, and Logan was the one who gave him the beer chaser to go with his scotch.

Alex could handle his liquor. That wasn't the issue. The issue was the giant cast restricting his already restricted mobility. The scotch probably didn't help the 'being-mobile' factor though, "Oh.. ehr.. Nahhh. I'm fiiine. I chill like this all the time… ya know… I hate my neck. Want to ruin it…" At least this Summers boy has a sense of humour.

Alex does take another swig of the flask, his eyes darting towards the door in-case Jean happened to appear without him noticing. Then again, she's no doubt already aware that Alex is drinking against her wishes. He keeps forgetting she's psychic after all.

"Yeah, it might be easier with two people," Lunair considers. Then she smiles and nods. "There's a small plot. And I'd be glad to show it to you. You're welcome to take any berries or whatever that pop up. And er…" She looks concerned. "I think that's sarcasm." Sometimes, massive negative social penalties hit harder than a train with a bunch of moose tied to it. Lunair looks sympathetic. "We can at least um. Help - move - so your neck isn't all messed up, then Miss Jean is mad at us."

Lunair, unlike the honey badger, do care. So she'll approach. "But then I have to get some sleep or I'm going to be irritable."

"Alex, that's a waste of perfectly good scotch. Save it fer when you're feelin' better. Then you can enjoy it properly." He can't really do anything stupid with the cast, so what's the point of using the good stuff. At the very least, he should switch to a cheaper option like beer.

Rising to his feet, Logan nods in agreement with Lunair, "all right Summers, time fer bed." He'll carefully reach to bring him up, while remaining mindful of the issues Alex is facing. "We gotta get you to bed, so Lunair can get to bet, else we'll have an irate Lunair on our hands, and ain't nobody who wants that ta happen."

Alexander Summers shrugs, "It's Scott's scotch anyways. Not too concerned about wasting it…" He offers a mischievous grin, figuring of all people, Logan might find it more understandable. "What can I say. I have a lot of catching up to do on all fronts of our relationship."

If they do decide to put Alex to bed, they really won't find much of a struggle. God knows how long he's actually been sitting here watching tv.

At least Lunair left the poor guy a slender, new netbook to play with, right? She seems oddly sympathetic, but someone who spent most of their life in a negative pressure room would be. Regardless, she looks amused by Logan's response. "Totally." Dun dun dun. Alex's grin is hard not to smile at, but Lunair will help move Alex with Logan, before quietly wandering off to bed.

A wry grin tells Lunair and the likeable Summers brother that Logan approves of using Scott's booze that way. "Alex, I think you and I are gonna get along great." And he enjoys Lunair's company too, though Alex is the good brother, while Scott, he understands Scott, he might event secretly agree with him… some of the time, but that doesn't mean he likes him. Scott's an acquired taste, and Logan has no desire to acquire it. Together, he and Lunair will get Alex off to bed, Logan will give Philbert back to Lunair, and he'll let them sleep, while he might slip back down to the living room to watch Jon Stewart. While watching, Logan says aloud, "… gonna miss him."

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