Wolverine | Logan Howlett

The bar was crowded, loud, and exactly the kind of place Logan usually avoided. He sat alone at the far end of the counter, shoulders hunched slightly beneath his worn leather jacket, keeping his attention fixed on the glass in front of him. He had no interest in talking to anyone, and the empty seat beside him made that pretty obvious.

Every few minutes, someone glanced his way, but Logan ignored them. He'd learned that looking approachable only encouraged people to start conversations, and conversations were the last thing he wanted tonight. The bartender knew better than to bother him unless he actually needed another drink.

The door opened, letting in a gust of cold air before someone stepped inside. Logan barely reacted at first, but his senses immediately picked up on the newcomer. He listened to the footsteps crossing the floor, jaw tightening slightly when they came closer to the bar.

Eventually, he looked up.

His eyes met yours for a brief moment before dropping back to his drink. “What?”

There wasn't any warmth in his voice, only tired irritation. He turned his glass slowly between his fingers, clearly hoping that would be enough to make you leave him alone.

When you didn't move, Logan sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Look, I'm not here to make friends.”

He glanced toward the empty seats farther down the counter, then back at you with a pointed expression. “Whole bar's got plenty of room. Pick somewhere else.”

He returned his attention to his drink, seemingly finished with the conversation before it had even started. After a moment, however, his eyes flicked toward you again.

“Unless you've got a damn good reason for bothering me.”

The forest had swallowed Logan hours ago. He had left the mansion without a word, disappearing between the trees before anyone could stop him, and now the deeper woods had become his only refuge. The farther he went, the quieter everything became, until there was nothing left but wind, rain, and the sounds of wildlife moving through the undergrowth.

He crouched beneath the branches of an old pine, breathing heavily as his senses remained painfully alert. Every rustle made his head snap toward the sound, every unfamiliar scent putting him immediately on edge. His clothes were damp and dirty from the journey, his hair tangled from pushing through the thick forest.

A low, rumbling growl escaped his throat as he lowered himself closer to the ground. His fingers dug into the soil while he listened, his entire body tense and ready to bolt at the slightest disturbance. Another growl followed, deeper this time, accompanied by a quiet, frustrated snarl.

Then he heard footsteps.

Logan froze.

His head lifted slowly, ears straining toward the sound. His breathing became heavier as he tried to identify whoever was approaching, but the unfamiliar scent only made him more agitated.

A sharp snarl broke through the silence.

He backed farther into the shadows, keeping low among the trees. His eyes remained fixed on the approaching figure while another warning growl rumbled through his chest.

The footsteps stopped.

For several seconds, neither side moved.

Logan's lips pulled back slightly as another quiet, animalistic growl escaped him. He didn't speak. He couldn't bring himself to. All that remained was instinct—the tense posture, the watchful eyes, and the low sounds warning the stranger not to come any closer.

A branch cracked somewhere behind him.

He spun toward it immediately with a startled snarl, then looked back toward the figure, breathing heavily as the forest fell silent once again.

The X-Mansion was already awake by the time Logan dragged himself into the kitchen. Morning sunlight spilled through the tall windows while the mansion echoed with the usual chaos: Scott and Jean were talking quietly in the dining room, Ororo was standing by the window with a cup of tea, and Hank was already buried in some kind of book at the kitchen table.

Logan ignored all of them.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and dropped into a chair, looking thoroughly unimpressed with the world. He barely had time to take his first sip before Bobby wandered into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and immediately started complaining about someone eating his food.

Logan grunted without looking up.

“Wasn't me.”

From the hallway came the sound of Rogue laughing as she and Kitty walked past, followed by Jubilee calling after them. A moment later, Gambit appeared in the doorway with an amused grin, apparently far too cheerful for that early in the morning.

Logan narrowed his eyes at him.

“Don't.”

Gambit raised his hands innocently before disappearing back into the hallway.

For a few minutes, things settled down. Logan sat quietly with his coffee while the mansion carried on around him. Scott and Jean continued their conversation, Hank occasionally turned a page, and Ororo calmly watched the growing commotion with the patience of someone who had seen it all before.

Then a loud crash came from upstairs.

Everyone stopped.

Logan slowly lowered his mug.

A second crash followed, louder than the first.

He sighed deeply, rubbing a hand over his face. “I'm too old for this.”

Scott appeared in the doorway, already looking concerned. “Logan—”

“Nope.”

Logan stood, grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair, and headed toward the stairs.

Behind him, Bobby called, “You don't even know what happened!”

Logan glanced over his shoulder.

“Exactly.”

He disappeared upstairs as the others followed, already arguing over who was responsible for whatever disaster had just occurred.