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diademlogs2025-06-09 11:56 am
carcajous) wrote in diademlogs2025-06-09 11:56 am
Entry tags:
[ CLOSED ] june.
Who: Logan + Kimiko, Scott, Jesse
Where: Panorama
When: June
What: Catch-all for the month, including a little misunderstanding at the barbershop (oops)
Warnings: A bit of violence, probably!
Where: Panorama
When: June
What: Catch-all for the month, including a little misunderstanding at the barbershop (oops)
Warnings: A bit of violence, probably!
no subject
His eyebrow lifts. She noticed, huh? ] It wasn't real.
[ Is that the reason? He can't explain, he realizes. It's the type of question he'd have dodged coming from someone else, but now that he's giving it genuine thought, it hits him he hasn't got an answer, anyway. Not one he can put into words. But she's watching him, not judging, only curious. ]
It's not you, [ he adds. Because he might not know precisely what it was, why he was so unsettled there, but he knows what it wasn't. ] Just...
[ He shrugs. What's there to say? About everything he's seen? About the fact that sometimes, he isn't sure why he feels what he feels 'cause there's a hole inside him where his memories should beâthe memories that other people pull on to piece together a picture of themselves. So they understand what makes them who they are. He hasn't got that.
In the growing pause, he realizes she must be waiting for a sentence that isn't coming. Now he's wondering if coming in here was a good idea, in the end. He can't decide if he wants her to keep pushing 'til it comes spilling out or if he wants to go back to when they talked about nothing important. But then, how much of that'd real, too? If that was all she ever got out of him? ]
no subject
not it feels like she's seeing it for the first time - logan settled into the cushions, and karen (noticing, trying not to notice but still noticing) how he is settling into it. how he looks less and less likely to get up and leave.
he seems surprised she would have noticed, but karen doesn't blame him. she supposes he'll figure that part out about her soon enough. his answer, though, creases her brow just a tad. it wasn't real. ]
And Panorama is?
[ because that's where her mind goes - not that he was talking about her, not that he was talking about this, but that he is finding something more real here that out there. part of karen wonders if that has to do with how long he's been here, the fact that these diffusion zones come and go, and this was really her first extended stay in one. but then another part of her can't wrap her head around... any of this. all of this.
it's not you is what he follows up with, and karen blinks, realizing - suddenly - that her thoughts had been going somewhere completely different. just...
it feels a little... she doesn't smile, exactly. but there is a hint of an uplift to the corners of her mouth. she hadn't even been thinking about that, but the fact he feels the need to specify that makes her realize, in a way she doesn't know that she'd needed to hear, that whatever their time together has been, it hasn't just been. her. it hadn't just been her asking, and him agreeing because she asked. that sends something in her stomach fluttering, but it feels... out of place, almost, with the heaviness of what logan isn't yet really talking about.
in the silence that follows, karen realizes that he's not going to finish that thought. karen's used to that, used to talking to people who don't really want to talk, don't want to open up, and karen locks into that. logan isn't one of her interviewees, isn't someone she needs to dig information out of for the sake of a case, or a story. he's not that, he's not a story subject, but karen... sees that there is something he's not saying, something he's not completely closed off to, so she presses. ]
Just what?
no subject
Her question makes him realize there's more to this planet, this city, in her eyes. A civilian is what he told Scott when they spoke. He doesn't think he's off the mark with that one. And he's got no idea how to wrap his head around what this might all feel like to her.
Another second or two ticks by. Logan isn't sure if he wants to finish that thought. Isn't sure if it's worth finishing. Still, she's asking, for once. He recognizes she hasn't done that before. Every time they've spoken, she's let him say what he wants to say. She's never bothered him about the question marks there's no way she could've missed: blood on him when he slips back into his room. The bullet holes in his bike that he couldn't repair until the week after. The fact that he never seems to sleep on any regular schedule.
Just what? ]
Just hard to trust something that's a little too nice.
no subject
as she blinks, she realizes logan's tilted his head at her, confused, and karen realizes just how much of that feeling has been her, desperately, convincing herself it was true.
but it's not, is it? she's been here for weeks, with no escape in sight. she's been here almost two months, has been chatting and talking and enjoying her time with logan, but that even then some part of her has still been clinging to the chance she wouldn't be here much longer at all. there is a swell of guilt, at that realization, at the feeling that she has been... what? leading him on?
has she?
hard to trust something that's a little too nice.
karen stills after his words, looking at him in her stillness. the thing is- she understands what it is he's saying. how it's hard to settle in, hard to trust anything that seems too good to be true. she thinks back over her own last few years, how every time it had started to feel good, how far she'd fall after. how hard it would hurt. it's another moment, then another more, before she nods and finally drops her eyes to the floor between them, reaches up to comb her fingers back through her hair, pulling it off of her face more out of a habit, a tick, then for any reason - especially with how the blonde strands fall right back down after.
a little too nice. sounds familiar. ]
Yeah- that makes sense. Hard to trust something that's too good to be true. [ she can't help the way she thinks about matt, then. of their good times, and how they always ended, usually drastically, usually in tears, usually harder than they'd been at first. she thinks about how long it took her to tell matt anything, it was nice to be thought of that way. and then- immediately after- she thinks of frank. of every interaction, where it didn't feel like she was lying, like there wasn't anything to hide, because it wasn't all nice.
but now she's sitting here with logan. now she wants to be sitting here with logan. and where does that leave her in all of this? she knows she wants to know more about him, knows that she's curious about what he means, but something in what he sais settles into her. ]
I moved to New York a few years ago. [ a pause, an exhale, as she seems to make a kind of decision in all of this. ] I grew up in a small mountain town in Vermont. It was- [ she huffs a laugh, tired. ] It was kind of a shit place, honestly, and I dreamed of leaving. I was going to go to college, be a writer, move to New York. But then my mom got sick so I didn't, because I had to stay behind to take care of my dad and brother, but... it wasn't great. It wasn't great for a really long time. I don't know if you've been to anyplace like that, where there just. Isn't much to do. Started dating a really... shit guy, honestly, too. And I think I just thought that was it. [ she realizes that this is getting longer than she meant it to be, that there's a point she's trying to make, but in trying to make it, she's just sort of dumping. there's a feeling of sheepishness, self-consciousness, as she starts to pick at her nails a little. ] I kinda accepted that was it. That would be my life. I'd help my dad run the diner, my brother would go to college, my boyfriend and I would probably get pregnant, we'd get married, move into his trailer...
[ a beat, and then she exhales, very much wishes she'd already poured that drink. ]
Then some things kind of... went to shit. I uh- well, everything fell apart. And when it finally settled, I moved to New York. I tried to leave it all behind me, you know? Start something new. For a few months it worked, and it was nice. Too nice, I guess. And then that all sort of fell apart, in a different way, but also not that different, I still- [ she shakes her head. she's getting so far ahead of herself, and doesn't even know where she's going with it. but there's something in the stillness in how logan is sitting in the room with her that she feels like this is... she doesn't know. necessary? like he deserves this much of her, maybe. that after she's here now, for the second time, asking logan to stay so she isn't alone.
because that's what this really does come down to, right? the fact that karen is here. that karen is asking logan to be here. and that he has said yes, both times. ]
Sorry. I guess what I'm trying to say is- I get it. That feeling that good stuff won't last, or isn't actually good. And I know you have... your own life. The war you were dealing with back home. I don't know any of that, but... I don't know. A lot of it is shit, like- really awful. But... it can also be good. And sometimes it's just... only as nice as you make it. [ a beat, and then she looks up to him with a smile that is equal parts apologetic as it is open. something in it a little tired.
she doesn't know much about what he's been through. doesn't know much about him at all. but sometimes it just needs to begin. ] Sometimes, at least.
no subject
Hell, he's been here. With Karen. Part of him wants it; the other part of him wonders if he's burying his head in the sand.
Not 'til Karen starts talking does he realize how much that feeling's got to do with how she's never said anything before. The most she's offered is that she's from New York. He doesn't hold it against her. God knows he's said fuck all about himself, too. Just...there was a distance. Like she was keeping him at arm's length as much as he was. Now those walls are crumbling. And he's left thinking: he hasn't got a reason to keep the door shut tight anymore. He can't tell himself it makes no difference what he shares, can't tell himself she's also avoided digging deep. For a moment, he's torn on what this means. If he wants to meet her halfway. If he wants to turn what's brewing into more.
It's only as nice as you make it. She's got no idea how shit he is at making anything nice.
His fingers interlock as he leans forward. His eyes are somewhere between the door and the wall behind her. Eventually, they travel back to her face.
(He does. He does want this to be more.) ]
I can't tell you what I grew up dreaming of. [ He hesitates. ] The other night, when you asked me... [ He shrugs. She hadn't asked nothing much. Easy conversational bullshit that wouldn't have fazed anyone else. He'd brushed them off. Now he finds he suddenly wants to explain. ] One day, I came to and all I had was my name. Charles used to tell me to give it time. I think we both knew I was never getting it all back, but...I stuck around his school, anyway. For answers. Figured I had nothing to lose. And the kids, they kinda grew on me. A lot of them didn't have anywhere to go, either.
[ There's still details he's skirting. What happened to the school after. What happened to theâJesus, to the students. But those aren't the pieces he's ready to share. ]
It was good. [ That was the good stuff he found. He wouldn't say he made it, but he did find it. His gaze is fixed on Karen. ] I would've died for those kids.
[ He would've died for all of them. Always the biggest rub that he can't. ]
no subject
it feels... odd, in a way, to be the open offering all this to him. to be the one in charge of whether or not this is known. her life, her mistakes, back in vermont felt as much everyone else's story as her own. a newspaper article that foggy and matt had done when they hired her, clippings that ben had showed her in some show that he knew, that he understood. sometimes it had been used by her to get a interview subject to open up, to show the harsher truth of what can happen, if you don't take control of your truth.
but that's not what this is. karen isn't telling logan all of this for some transaction, or even for a kind of leveling of the playing field. instead, it feels like she's offering this part of her to him, hoping that he feels comfortable in offering something of him to her in return. but even as she hopes, a part of karen recognizes that logan doesn't have to say anything at all in return, and she won't regret it. that part knows that as much as she wants to know about him (and she does, god she wants to know-) she also just wants him to know her.
when logan's eyes travel back to her face, she is still watching him - without expectation, with patience, waiting to see what it is he'll do. when he starts, she listens, and continues to as he goes on. she gets the feeling he's not exactly used to opening up like this, details and aspects of the story he's probably leaving out, but as he says a lot of them didn't have anywhere to go, either something in her expression shifts. she knows how that feels, even if it came to her much later in life. she does remember charles talking about a school, a school for gifted young, and despite what logan said easier about how it is charles who he's been sharing a room with, she somehow didn't... expect to hear that logan would have been staying at the school. they kind of grew on me gets a soft sort of smile from her, fond in a way, though she doesn't know these kids, has no context for what they're like. it was good he says, and karen thinks she understands. thinks she picks up on the was, what he might mean, how he might feel.
her smile fades at his next words, and she remembers what logan said before, the way he'd talked about his home, what he'd been fighting. ]
When you said, before, about the war on your doorstep... [ she's not necessarily looking for an answer.
she blinks, and for half a moment she sees frank in a hospital bed. sees frank, covered in blood. sees frank, talking about his children, shaking from how it hurts. she doesn't need to know what happened to them to feel it in her chest, to know that there's nothing she can really say about any of it that will help. so instead, without really thinking about it, she reaches across the space between the bed and the couch (it isn't much, the couch barely even fits in the room, but she does still have to reach) and sets her hand on his. ]
no subject
Besides, those memories are with him no matter what. That's never going to change, either.
So no. He doesn't answer while watches her put the pieces together: the school, the students, the war, his brief remark about settling in Westchester when they first metâhow she'd looked at him like it didn't at all fit the picture she was building in her head.
She's right. He doesn't fit. Never did. They took him in, anyway.
The bed creaks. The air is thick, humid, and he can feel the heat saran-wrapped to his skin. Somehow, her hand manages to be even warmer. He thinks about her fingers curled around his wrist, pulling him from cabin to cabin. That had been good, too. Simple. It was easy to go along when he could tell himself she was relaxed from the alcohol, the escapism, that they were just fooling around for a bit 'til reality set back in. Now reality has set back in and she's still here, asking him inside. It's the second time she's wanted him to stay. Third? It strikes him there was never a point where she hasn't wanted him to stick around a bit longer. Been a while, since that's happened.
Would she be doing the same if she knew? If she really knew him, not just what he is but who he is. If the picture she's putting together includes one big chunk she hasn't got.
His eyes go from their hands to her face. ] I'm not what you think I am.
no subject
she watches him in the silence that follows, telling herself that it's not the same, they're not the same, but she still needs to listen. she has a point of reference, maybe, for the degree of pain he's lived through, but nothing concrete. nothing her's. when she squeezes his wrist, it's in support, it's because she wants to be there for him, and that's all she really thinks about then.
not whether or not the facts of his life match, not how some things he said about what he's done, where he's been, are confusing. those are all true, yes, but recognizes that those things don't really matter to her. of the things she's seen, of the things that have happened to her, whether or not he worked at a school is hardly far up on the list of things she's actually having trouble wrapping her head around.
he is watching their hands for long enough that karen squeezes, once, to let him know that this is a choice. even though it's a moment later that his eyes go to her face, that he says-
I'm not who you think I am.
that... it doesn't startle her, exactly, but there is a sudden sort of tension that shoots through her at the words. as she looks into his eyes, she frowns. another second passes, and then a third, before she pulls her hand back a bit cautiously. it's a strange place for her to be in, her gut telling her that there's nothing to worry about, but the words, her experiences, setting off every red flag possible the moment he says that. ]
What's that supposed to mean?
[ because whether or not she means it to, her thoughts go to matt. to that evening in the office, when he told her about being the masked man, about being daredevil. of course the memories has her thinking back to their every conversation, every interaction - there's no masked man here who had saved her from certain death, no vigilante who she doesn't know but trusts. no one he could have lied to her about being, no one logan could have been but presented himself otherwise.
that is the reason for most of her expression - confusion - at the fact she doesn't know what he means, who it is he thinks she thought he was. and who it is he's supposed to be, instead, except for what she's seen.
unfortunately for logan, her response isn't in reaction to him - so much as she feels like she's been here before, been lied to before. and now she's worried - or, no, not worried, but unsure - of how stupid she's been, how she must have made a fool of herself. the embarrassment, really, is the main factor for her sudden tension. ]
Logan- [ she cuts herself off, her hands going to her lap as her eyes go down to her hands - thinks about his, about tugging him from hut to hut, about how often she has thought out reaching out to him but has held back...
and then her eyes go back to him - her jaw stubborn, set. like she's fighting herself, somewhere in these brief moments. no matter what, no matter what, there is a voice in the back of her head that tells her to wait. to give him a chance. ]
no subject
He's got no template for how Karen might react. But the tension that shoots through her almost at once makes his guard go up. What's she thinking? Does she suspect? Is she already asking herself how soon she can get him to leave? If he'd hesitated over his decision earlier, he doesn't now. Because it's clearer than ever there's no point in dragging shit out. If this is how it's gonna be, then that's how it'll be. He's never gone out of his way to pretend to be something he's not. Half the time, people recognize him. The other half, he blends in by default, usually leaves it at that to avoid trouble. Most aren't worth his claws. He couldn't care less what they think of him and his people, doesn't expect anything except the worst out of them. They don't matter.
Karen matters.
And he suddenly hates that she does. That he wants to trust her but can't. That she can make him feel...uncertain. (Vulnerable.)
By the time she pulls her hand away, Logan's doing the same. He could explain. Give her all the definitions and history. Somebody else might've done just that. But what's there to say, huh? This, it isn't about what happened in his world. Or, fuck, maybe it is because it always is in some formâan influence that shaped each of them from the moment they were born differentâbut it's personal, too. She let him in first. Now he's letting her in, and he's not sure if this might end up the last time he bothers.
His fingers fold into fist. The skin between his knuckles splits first. Then three sharp points emerge, sliding out slowly. The metal gleams with an unnatural shine. The torn flesh closes around the base of each claw.
So. There it is. Logan's eyes haven't moved from her. Not a big secret, exactly. Just something she didn't know yet. Now she does. ]
no subject
he reacts in turn, though she isn't yet capable of understanding fully why. his guard seems to go up just as much as her own, which... isn't what she expected. there's a part of karen that is trying to piece together what she knows about logan, what small pieces he's let out for her to pick up, and what it might all add up to. the space between her brow wrinkles, the slightest bit, while she waits for an answer, because she doesn't know what he might say.
there is no masked man who saved her life. no secret identity that she knows about, running around. every interaction they've had has seemed so clear, so simple, that the concept that she could (once again, again-) be so blind as to miss the signs-
she's at a loss, suspended in the passing moments, while she waits for logan to answer. she tries to prepare herself for the impossible (I'm a murderer, I'm a killer, I've done terrible things to good people, I'm a liar, I'm a thief), but even then none of them seem to quite fit. not fully, not completely- but still karen wonders what it could be.
( and then, as a next thought, she wonders what answer he might give- no, what answer he might owe her like he seems to think he does- that would change how it is she thinks about him.
nothing comes to mind, but still she waits, knowing that she's been proven wrong before. )
she waits, still tense, still unsure, but not leaving. her eyes stay on his face, dropping down to his hands only when she notices them moving. his fingers curl slowly into fists, and karen very nearly tilts her head at him, very nearly asks what it is he's doing, when something moves.
it's hard to describe what it is that karen sees - because in one moment she is looking down at calloused hands, curled tight into fists. and then, in a smooth movement, there are three what look like knives sliding between his knuckles. briefly, she thinks back to the glint of silver she'd seen in the diner, how she'd assumed he kept knives on him, how this somehow feels like a confirmation that she hadn't been imagining that. somehow, without karen really understanding why, the tension starts to ease out of her - slowly, but surely.
it doesn't... it's odd. it's different. it certainly isn't anything that she had expected to see slipping through the knuckles of logan's hands (hands she'd held, if only briefly. hands she's thought about). but it also isn't-
it isn't what she thought. no- it isn't what she'd feared.
her shoulders relax, her eyes going from his hands back to his eyes, that guard she'd put up just a few moments before slipping away. what replaces it is a kind of hesitant curiosity, uncertain if she's crossing some kind of line, but unable to truly hold it back. hesitantly she lifts her hands to his, but stops with a safe enough amount of space between them. her request might be obvious, but even so, she still asks- ]
Can I...?
[ see them, touch them, get a better look. how logan interprets it is up to him, while karen waits to either be told to fuck off, or... maybe something else. ]
no subject
There's none of that. If anything, she seems to exhale, releasing a breath neither of them realize she was holding. Logan blinks once, waiting to see where this is going. It's a weird position to be in, to be telling somebody. He's never bothered. They either already know or they don't need to know. Ever since he landed on this planet, he's realized how many people have no idea about mutants. They're not plastered all over the news. They're not being debated on the streets and in Congress. They're not being hunted. It should be a good thing, but...fuck, he doesn't know. Mostly, it throws him off. He's operated by instinct for most of his life, and when things aren't quite right, aren't what he's accustomed to, it's as if his instincts aren't working, leading him astray, making him hesitate.
Or maybe he's having trouble admitting Karen's the one throwing him off. That it isn't this place, it's her. It's that he keeps...that he cares too damn much what happens next. He cares what she might tell him or how she might look at him. It shouldn't matter, he doesn't want it to matter, but it does. It does because like her, he's been asking himself if he's a goddamn idiot, if he was wrong, to think that he could maybeâfor once in his too long lifeâlet himself trust someone again without solid proof in front of his eyes that they can be trusted.
That's the thing, right? He's cautious 'til he isn't. And more often than not, he regrets it. (Somehow, he never learns.)
Still, she relaxes further, and despite himself, some of the tension leeches out of him, too. He expects questions. What he is. How long he's been like this. What happened to him. If there are others like him. But those questions don't come.
Instead, she reaches for his hand. The room's quiet. Real damn quiet, so quiet he can hear her heart as clear as drum. It's not steady. It's not beating fast out of fear. It's something else. (He knows what it is.)
He doesn't invite her closer. Doesn't move toward her. But he doesn't pull away, either. Maybe she can see his continued silence for what it is: a sort of careful allowance of whatever she might be asking to do. ]
no subject
it's something karen should probably figure out about herself - how she can sit here with what she's just seen, how it can be something so outside of her own understanding, how it can be something so obviously dangerous - and feel somehow more comfortable. it says something, that because it is something physical, because it isn't something he's lied about, that karen feels entirely safe again, though not entirely at ease. that little uncertainty that remains in her has a lot more to do with the fact she can tell logan is still a bit tense, still waiting for her to do something, still waiting for her to hurt him-
and some part of her has recognized- no, decided, that she can't do it. she won't. but she doesn't know what that is- what he's so worried about, what it might be that he thought she would do.
he seems just as uncertain as she is, somehow. just as caught off-guard by her lack of reaction as she is by the fact there are blades between his knuckles. when she reaches for his hand and asks if she can, and he doesn't respond, she waits for a breath before reaching just a bit further across the space and, gently, carefully, cupping her hands around his closest still-clenched fist. part of her thinks to pull it closer, to set his hand in her lap so she can really look at what it is she hasn't yet fully understood, but karen decides against it. instead, she closes the space between them herself, leaning forward and propping her elbows up on her knees. her hands are featherlight as she cups his hand and leans towards it, finally getting a clearer picture - seeing the way the blades really are protruding from his skin, like they've pierced right through the soft tissue between the bones of his knuckles.
she tilts her head off to the side to avoid the blades themselves, seeing her reflection in the metallic sheen. part of her considers running her thumb along the blades to see just how sharp they are, but something in the back of her head says that is a little too far. she squints, notices the blood but can't see him bleeding, before her eyes flick up to his own.
it's hard to tell what he's waiting for, what he wants from this conversation. karen knows what she wants to say, but there are a couple of seconds where she thinks the question over. considers if, maybe, it could be the wrong answer. when she hasn't yet figured it out, she decides to take a small leap, a risk, watching his eyes - his face - for some clue. ]
Does it cut you each time? [ distractedly, she brushes her thumbs along the skin of his fingers below the blades - brushes across the small amount of blood there. ] When they come out?
no subject
He isn't sure if there's room for it now. A tentative part of him wants to believe there is.
She's studying them, the smooth metal claws. He doesn't mind. The scrutiny, he means. His fingers relax, loosening in her grasp. ]
I heal fast. [ The simple answer. He finally retracts them. They vanish in a blink, leaves behind no sign they were ever there. His hand stays in hers, though, lingering. ] We don't exist in your world, do we?
[ Not that she's aware of, at least. He can tell. Otherwise, she'd have more than this sort of idle curiosity, as if she's seeing something she doesn't understand and couldn't possibly have imagined seeing. She'd know what he was. The second his claws came out, she'd have known he was mutant. Maybe his people are underground in her timeline, her dimension. Maybe they were never born at all. Evolution might've just veered in another direction. Funny. He's not sure how he feels about that. When he's faced with somebody who isn't from anywhere close to what he is, that's easier to wrap his head around. But Karen...he could've met a woman like Karen on the streets of Manhattan, at a bar in Westchester, anywhere.
This, here. This is the only difference. As if somebody took a giant eraser to the entire potential of a mutant population and scrubbed them out. ]
no subject
his fingers relax, and she shifts her hands just a marginal amount, her grip
on his hand not firmer, exactly, but more complete. like she wants to keep her hands there, wants to keep holding his.
i heal fast. she blinks, sitting up a little as she watches the blades slip back into his hand. she notices that he doesnât pull his hand out of herâs as he does it, so she also doesnât pull away. keeps herself leaned forward, holding onto his. sheâs aware of it, the heat he gives off, how humid the room is still, but part of her is afraid to move.
we donât exist in your world, do we?
her brow furrows, though not negatively. more thoughtful. we? she thinks about the avengers, the aliens who invaded and destroyed half of new york. she thinks about ultron, and europe, meeting someone from sokovia only a couple of weeks ago. ]
You mean like superheroes? [ her head tilts, briefly, before she shakes her head. whether she means it or not, she thinks about matt. about frank. ] No, we have those.
[ thatâs not what he means, but she doesnât know that.
though, a moment later, the corner of her mouths turn upward. a soft, small smile. somehow, logan being a superhero is one of the most unsurprising things that has happened to her since she woke up in that med tent. ]
no subject
Give him a minute with that one.
A dry chuckle escapes him. ] No. No, I'mâa mutant. Trust me, nobody's lookin' at us as heroes.
[ Well. Maybe the kids did. Used to.
Besides, it's been a long time since they've done any saving on humanity's behalf. Most days, he tries not to let it get to him. He knows Charles still believes it was the right thing to do. And Logan doesn't disagree, it's justâlately, it's gotten harder and harder not to ask: what the hell good did all of that saving do? Where's it gotten them except killed on the streets and in cages like animals?
After a second, he finally slides his hand from between hers, gently. His thumb runs absently over the groove between his knuckles.
Karen's smiling at him, soft. He can't figure out what that look's for. Why it's directed at him. But if it's got anything to do with that superhero shit...
Guess it could fit some of the others. Just not him. ]
Nature spun the roulette wheel with some of us. That's all it is.
no subject
I'm a mutant.
there is something in the way that he says mutant that makes karen think he's expecting a very different reaction from her, and something makes her think that reaction wouldn't have been positive. still, her eyes remain on him, his hand still in hers, as she smiles a little. ]
Mutations. That's what Charles studied, right? As a scientist? [ he says nobody is looking at that as heroes, and karen... god. truth is, karen feels something solidify in her chest at that. feels her jaw clench, biting back the urge to argue with him.
that's when logan finally pulls his hand out of her's, and karen lets him, sitting back again so that she's sitting up on her corner of the bed. he looks... uncomfortable. looks like he'd rather snort and shrug his way out of the conversation than talk about it. karen sits back and watches him look uncomfortable, something... not amusing, necessarily, but it is interesting. ]
You saved me. [ she says, easily, without any extra weight or meaning behind it. that's all it is. she doesn't think so. ] I'd consider that pretty super. [ her smile turns a little playful, like she knows she's turning it into more of a joke than actually trying to argue with him, even if she does mean it. even if she could turn this into something a lot more intense than it is.
but she doesn't think she wants to. she can tell this was important for logan to tell her, and while she might not fully understand the lengths as to why, she can notice when something is important. she lets a moment pass, and then she lets out a breath, shaking her head. ]
But no- I don't know if there are mutants back home. Or, if there are, they're not public knowledge.
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Funny. To find out she's already brushed by other landmarks in his life. City this big, and she just happens to speak to Charles at that same resort. He's one of us, too. She might be able to guess by now, but Logan decides not to confirm either way. That one's not his story to tell. His reply is a noncommittal nod.
Now how'd he guess she was gonna say that? He rolls his eyesâlighthearted more than dismissive. Yeah, yeah, alright. Maybe he did do that.
Then his gaze cuts back to her, angled beneath the tilt of his head. ] Oh, I don't know. Bet you would've had it handled.
[ Now he's definitely teasing. But there's a small nudge beneath it, one that says he's aware they've barely scratched the surface between each other. And that's okay. He doesn't have to know right now in the same way she doesn't need to know more of him, either. They've both said enough for one night.
He leans back in his seat. The springs creak under his weight. ] You gonna tell me when you land your next job?
[ I wanna come see you. It goes unspoken. ]
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it is...interesting, really. realizing that when charles had been talking about students, about adults who he'd known as kids, about time travel, whatever that was supposed to mean, that he'd also been talking about logan. his roommate that he'd been thankful to escape from, if only for a few days. it makes karen feel a little more ingrained than she'd realized she'd been, building connections, noticing who knows who and how they are all, somehow, ending up connected.
she has her suspicions, as far as charles, as far as these mutations and abilities, goes. but she doesn't know anything for sure, so she decides not to start assuming. yet.
he rolls his eyes at her comment, and karen's smile grows just a little more, shaking her head. Bet you would've had it handled. ] Oh, yeah, I'm sure. Spider monster swarms are definitely my thing. [ there's enough sarcasm in the words for logan to know she's also kidding, though she has a feeling they both know she's not entirely helpless. she'd come into this place thinking she had it handled, or at least would make it by, by the longer they linger the more she realizes just how out depth she really is.
but just like he's thinking - that's okay. just like she figures there is plenty more to learn about logan, there is plenty more for her to learn about panorama, about herself, and maybe about them, too, somewhere along the way.
now it's karen's turn to roll her eyes - equally teasing, softening too. ]
Maybe. [ a beat, and then a grin. maybe it's a little too much, maybe it's a little too forward, but something in the way logan sits back on the couch - settles, like he's not planning on leaving quite yet - has her feeling a little confident. ] Why? You wanna come visit me? [ which may just be her speaking aloud what logan leaves unspoken. ]
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He smiles, the briefest flicker. ] Thinking about it.
[ He could make an excuse to himselfâkeeping an eye on her, checking up to make sure she's alrightâand some of it would be true, but that's not the whole reason. Not even most of the reason. No, he just wants to see her. He wants to see where they go, if maybe this isn't gonna turn out to be a bad fucking idea like it always does. 'Cause so far, it feels...good. Nice. She hasn't pushed him back, and Logan doesn't feel two steps away from bolting. (Anymore.)
It's real late now, but what the hell does time matter these days? He stays. He closes the crooked blinds against the harsh neon glow outside, ends up accepting whatever drink she's got in her fridge. It's not the high class champagne from the resort, but it's more what he's used to getting.
When he leaves this time, he leaves before she's fallen asleep. His hand rests on her doorframe, old and splintered, paint chipped. ] See you around?
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he smiles, and does say it, and karen's smile brightens. it says something close to in that case... but she doesn't say that part aloud, either, because something flutters in her ribs at his smile. he could make excuses, could be just as playful and just as joking, keep pushing this down the road and they could continue to dance around it.
but logan doesn't, so karen doesn't either - lets her eyes linger on his smile, just for another second or so, and then he stays.
the evening isn't anything crazy - she does finally pull out a couple of beers, possibly leftover from when they sat with each other in the parking lot, and they talk. about something. about nothing. karen talks, weighted but open, about vermont and growing up in the mountains, and he talks about his favorite routes, drives and seasons out in the woods, in the mountains, quiet and his own. in the end, nothing much gets shared beyond that start as well as a few beers and some bad whiskey. it's good, and karen very nearly lets herself be comfortable, be comforted, to think this can - even in the neon glow, the dingy motel carpet, the thick humidity.
and then, when it's time to leave, he stands and heads to the door - and karen follows him. her face hurts a little from smiling, and with the drinks she feels warm all the way through, and as his hand sets on the doorframe and he hovers, barely a moment, polite and easy, and karen leans against the doorframe his hand is resting on, looking up to him, still smiling. still warm. ]
You know where to find me. [ her tone is playful, light, and her eyes flick from his eyes to his mouth and back again. they're close - his hand on the doorframe above her, her hip and shoulder pressed against the wood of the frame, and it would be so easy... it's barely a moment, but she clocks it in herself, more than anything. there's a second where she wonders if this might be it, if this is even okay even after all the confirmations the evening has brought.
and then karen pushes up from the doorframe. putting a distance there, though it is by no means a closed door. more like a not tonight as her eyes soften. ] Goodnight, Logan.