1963-06-05 - Outside
Summary: Jean and Logan talk about the Institute, Charles, and going outside.
Related: None
Theme Song: None
logan jean 

Logan sits in the cafeteria, a ham sandwich sitting in front of him, half-eaten. He's enjoying a cigarette halfway through his meal, not seeing any particular rush. It's strange, this 'school' - Logan never really went to school, got any sort of formal education. There's no nostalgia here, he just feels a bit out of place. A reminder that, whatever he has in common with these people, his life is very…different.

Oh, well. Fuck it. He flares his nostrils as he watches a hint of Jean's scent in the air, calling out to her as she makes her way in, "Hey there, kiddo. How you doin'?"

One day of being well rested is a gift. Two days of being well rested is a blessing. The nights were seemingly easier since she's arrived here, she wasn't sure if it was because they were slowly building her confidence of ir Charles really was helping her cope with her wild telepathy. But, a fresh shower and a change of clothes stopped her from worrying about that, and with a green slip of a dress and white flower shoes, hair dashed into a ponytail, it was time to eat with notebook and pencil in hand.

She was startled as he picks her out of the air like nothing, but she does manage an uneasy smile. It's been a moment since they've actually had the time to talk and discuss, and as she settled down upon the table across from him, her shoulders slump just a bit. "Good. Great. I mean, this is a dream." She says with a relieved smile. "I feel good."

Logan raises an eyebrow, "I ain't never heard ya say that before. Seems like Chuck's got a good handle on some of yer stuff. That's good," he says, "You wanna sammich? Fridge back there's loaded with fuckin' food, like he expects the Russkies t'drop a nuke any day now. I'm tryin' not to take it worrisome," he says.

"I gotta be honest, I ain't exactly sure if I fit in 'round here. But I ain't goin' anywhere."

Jean nods slightly, prying open her pad of sketch paper, her pencil sharprned and briefly dabbed upon the tip of her tongue. "Are you going to make me a sandwich, Mr. Logan?" She asks, her voice light-hearted and teasing. "But yes, I'd like one. And a soda." Hey, he asked. She assumed he was going to get it. She lowers her gaze as she begins to start an outline upon the pad, glancing up towards the shaggy man, her shoulders shrugging.

"I don't think anyone truly fits around here until they feel like this is a home for them. I mean, did you see what those guys could do?" She cringes a little. "And.. I think they want you around. And I want you around. So I'm glad you're not going anywhere. I think you could help us and .. maybe we can help you?"

Logan doesn't mind at all, getting up and walking over to grab a few things. Cold cuts, some cheese, mustard. He slices a tomato with his claws, getting some even slices pretty damn fast. "Home? Don't know if I ever had one o' those," he says. "Yeah, I saw. Be honest, though, what you an' Chuck do is scarier t'me. Gettin' in a man's head, you can do all kindsa things," he says. "An' I'm stickin' 'round, like I said. Fer you, at least. Can't rightly just hand ya off to these boys an' assume yer gonna be okay."

Jean stops in her drawing to watch him, then turns back again to continue her light sketch. The pencil turns every which way, even rolling in between her fingers at a point as she stops to look at his back. "Chuck? You mean Charles?" Of course he does. "I.. don't know. Physical pain, it scares me. I hate it. There.. were a few times I went through electroshock therapy and .." She swallows just a little.

Her cheeks burn red however, her head shaking. "You don't have to stick around for me, Logan. I'm.. kinda not yours to hand off. And you've repaid me many times over by just being there and protecting me." She shakes her head, "Oh.. I don't know. I'm just glad you're here too. And safe. And not angry. You're calm today."

Logan does feel a little surge of anger at the mention of the electroshock therapy - he might have to make a return visit to that hospital sometime. He owed a few debts of his own back there.

When she says she isn't his to hand off, he looks away, "Never said you were," he says, returning to his sandwich for a moment as he hands hers off. "I ain't angry all the time. Just have a low tolerance fer bullshit."

The little anger he felt, she felt. She turns her head at the moment he does, looking away from him to swallow it back down. "I.. know.." She murmurs quietly, focusing upon her drawing until the sandwich was pushed in front of her. She was polite in eating, placing her pencil down and drawing face flat so it wouldn't be seen, the plate dragged in front of her so that both hands could take up the sandwich with a little bite. As she chews, a napkin was carefully taken, dabbed away at her mouth, finally looking up towards him as he swallows.

"I didn't feel you angry last night when we were all in that tunnel. Does that mean that you sense these people aren't.. bullshitting you?" The swearing even made her blush a little. "Sorry, Logan. I don't want to be a doctor to you. I really am just curious as to what you really think of this place. Truly. And if we can actually.. be something here. I guess, even though I'm happy. Like really truly happy. I'm afraid."

Logan considers, "I think this is prob'ly a good place fer you, yeah," he says. "They're true as can be, far as I can tell. I can usually tell when someone's lyin' - their hearts speed up an' they get all clammy. Nerves," he shrugs. "Didn't get none o' that from them."

"As for bein' somethin' - I ain't exactly sure what that means. I'm already me, don't wanna be nobody else," he says, finishing off his sandwich.

Jean nods at this, but she says nothing. The sandwich was almost immediately put away, sparing the conversation in the face of a good meal and in good company. She does have a habit of wiping at her lips, slightly shamed to have even a little bit of crumbs upon her lips. But it was settled, she was going to stay with them indefinitely, but she also had to let her parents know that she was alright.

"I.. sometimes listen to him. Like not on purpose but I can pick his voice out in my dreams. I can hear him say, 'I want us all to be our best selves.' Whatever that means. Maybe a better us? Or, us reaching our full potential?" She shrugs her shoulders faintly.

"What do you dream about, Logan?"

Logan snorts softly. He has momentary visions - the lab, the pain, bits and pieces of a half-dozen wars. "I try not to dream, darlin'," he says. "Thing is, you folks is young. Potential oozin' outta ya. Yer soft clay, still somethin' t'be shaped. I got hardened up a long time ago," he says, lighting a fresh cigarette.

"Does he really think like that? Damn. Gotta give it to him, he's an earnest motherfucker."

The look of curiosity drops upon her face as she catches those images, her head tilting a little to the side as she tries to bite back the slight hint of rage those memories bring. She tries to shake it out, but she knows one day, she was going to catch those thoughts and feelings again, particularly when or if he goes off into one of his rages. Silently, she picks up her notebook, curling it upright and against her as she continues to sketch.

"Yeah, he does think like that. It's.. honestly odd and refreshing." She smiles, looking up towards him, then down to her sketches. "Do you think it's okay if we leave and come back? I.. really wouldn't mind seeing the town around here. You'd be like my bodyguard. Or my chauffer." She wrinkles her nose. "I.. kind of want to find that prince. The naked guy in the diner. I think he's just like me."

Logan nods, "Of course we can leave. It ain't no prison, darlin', just a school. Anybody got a problem with us leavin' gonna find out what an adamantium headbutt feels like,' he grins. "I ain't no chauffeur, but I'm okay wit' bodyguard. Or how 'bout just yer friend, huh?" he says.

"I know that.." She truly did, she just had to get used to the entire idea. Coming and going, being finally, truly free. It was a scary subject, but with Logan near, she'll be reminded that everything is okay. There would be a time when she didn't need him anymore, and it made her sad. Sad enough to rise from her seat to walk around the table to sit at his side. Once she finishes with her drawing, she rips it from its place upon her sketchpad, laying it on the table right next to his hand.

"Friend then."

The drawing was an exact replica of him. Though deep in thought, empty plate instead of something that was half eaten, fingers curled around his cigarette as the smoke trails near the top. The way his hair is drawn, it looks a little neater, though his expression remains grim and thoughtful. At least that's how she saw him. His overall figure was prominent, the background drawn in as a last minute thing. And it was all done by hand. Pencil.

She stands from her spot next to him, then bends just a touch, her fingers curling underneath his shaggy jaw to tilt it enough for her to press a very, very gentle kiss against his temple. "See you in a little while?" She asks, standing up straight to exit the cafeteria. She wanted to visit the ever elaborate library that this institute has.

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