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Logan keeping to himself is nothing new. The Canadian mutant isn't always the most social of creatures, often preferring to hunt and fish alone to spending time with others. He can be gregarious, but he isn't easy to get to know either. Many on the X-men, in fact, don't know him all that well, in spite of his frequent presence on campus.
The door to the cabin is ajar. Broken off of its hinges. Shards of it lay across the porch. It looks to have been caved in from the outside, judging from the way the remnants lay. It takes only a cursory glance inside to recognize that something is deeply amiss.
There's a smell as well. A smell of blood. It's dark inside but, in the summer heat, it isn't hard for anyone to tell. There's something dead inside.
Emma isn't one to be keeping tabs on the adults that wander in and out of the Institute's grounds, after the initial "DO YOU BELONG HERE?" is settled. Her main focus is on the students and keeping them safe, and on task. But, something feels off, lately. There's always a low level of telepathy happening in Emma's mind, just a very basic neutral setting she operates on, so she can sense when someone needs help or is getting into trouble. And, with the same people around all the time, that constant influx of psychic signatures becomes something like a 'flavor,' or a 'melody.' Something that she can recognize as familiar, the subtle shifts in it when someone is gone or present… And, lately, there's been a peppery flavor, a 'Western' twang missing.
So, when Emma makes her way down to Logan's cabin, she knows something is wrong when she notices the doorway being dark and open, splinters of the shattered door on the porch. She slips instinctively into diamond form, for her protection, as she rushes up the steps and inside to see what may be seen. When she is reasonably certain there's no physical threat to her, she slips out of diamond form to be able to start contacting people telepathically. She sends out a brisk message, delivering the severity of the situation, telepathically. Remy, Cassandra, Lorna, Julie, Jean, and more… Excepting Scott, most pointedly. Something has happened at Logan's cabin and, if you are able, make your way here with careful haste.
Cassandra Cain is normally either in the gym or somewhere in the backyard. She's a fixture in those places, being as yet still too illiterate to appreciate the finer points of the establishment. The pint sized martial artist is consequently not far away. She'll make her way to the place in due haste, being one of the few who's been around the cabin. The teenager comes at a brisk trot from somewhere out in the brush, her nice new clothes looking somewhat…broken in. She'll enter the front door in a ready posture, hands bared like claws as she takes in the surrounding mayhem.
Lorna was asleep. Warm and deliciously comfortable. There was something fuzzy curled up at the crook of her arm and it was purring. That was nice. A smile tugged at her lips as she shifted and then promptly froze. A hand reached out and shifted to figure out where exactly she was. A pat, and then another supplied the fact that it was a kitten sized lump that was curled up beside her on one side. Oliver.
Then she shifted and her legs bumped into something much, much more solid than a fluffy kitten. Her hand stretched out that way… And her eyes snapped open sharply at the feeling of bare skin. Oh. Oh. A half naked Remy. She'd fallen asleep on his bed after having far too much bourbon. Her cheeks turned red and she was about to have a freak out, before Emma's words cut through her mind. She sat up sharply, scrambling and wincing as her head ached. Yep. Hung over.
"Remy? C'mon! Miss Frost said somethin'. Err.. whatever. Something's up." She muttered, pushing herself up and shoving her shoes on before she stumbled out the door and out the back toward the cabin. She arrived, her hair sticking out at all sides and particularly groggy looking. "Miss Frost?" She called, her voice dry and crackling before her gaze landed on Cassie. "Huh?"
Julie is sitting in the Institute's extensive garage, presently hand-tapping some manifold studs with a die-set that looks like it may have been in the family a generation or three, singing to herself in Italian on occasion when that-diverted about what she's doing. The thing drops to the workbench with a bit of a clank, and she blurts out, "Jimminy Cricket." She looks around, not being all that used to telepathic news bulletins, and says, hopping up off the stool she was sitting on and calling out, "Ay, Scott! Some kinda trouble at the cabin!" She scoops up a leather jacket, and a military-surplus flashlight, as an afterthought, as she makes for one of the doors.
"What dat, chere?" Remy says. Not used to the twin bed, he misjudges the edge and falls off the opposite side as Lorna makes her way out the door. "Ahm comin, ahm comin."
It's not too long after Lorna arrives that Remy stands in the door. He doesn't know Emma well, but knows something serious must have happened. As such, he remains quiet, hands in the pockets of his trenchcoat.
Scott has his head under the hood of one of the Institute's loaner cars, making a few adjustments in light of some student speeding of late. He peeks out from behind it at Julie's words, brows furrowing slightly over his glasses. "What kind of trouble?" he calls after her, snatching up a towel to wipe the grease off his hands even as he's already walking after her. The rag gets tossed by the door, even as he swaps out glasses for visor and breaks into a jog.
As the heroes begin to investigate, it will quickly grow clear that things are worse than they might seem on the surface. The inside of the cabin speaks of chaos. Violence happened here, no doubt, and violence on a sudden and vicious scale. The table where Logan often sits has been upturned, two legs broken off. His bookshelf is smashed, paperbacks strewn about haphazardly. The potbellied stove, leading up to the makeshift chimney above, has been knocked askew, the pipe spilling soot, piles of black powder around its cast iron frame.
But it's the gore that draws the eyes. A massive pool of blood next to the table. More blood along the walls, streaked here and there alongside clawmarks that gouge through the wood, the triple-slash nature leaving little doubt as to their source.
There's an arm next to the potbellied stove, severed at the shoulder. The arm is covered with eyes, dozens of them, staring bloodshot and empty and dead.
There's a head in the sink. Wild-haired and with a bulging tongue the size of a lamprey and with its own set of teeth to boot. The expression left on the face seems surprised.
The body slumped against the wall is, like the others, visibly inhuman. Above the waist, he resembles the character actor Ernest Borgnine - balding, fleshy-faced, a bit plump. Below the waist, however, is a mass of tentacles, black as pitch, each of them as long as a man's leg, entangled with one another. He's been disemboweled, intestines mingling with the suckered appendages below.
Of the cabin's owner, there is no sign. Logan, it seems, is not here.
As people begin arriving, they find Emma standing in one of the few unsullied sections of the room with a look on her face that clearly relates her feelings on the matter: she's disgusted. Her eyes, one of them sometimes showing a hint of red casting through her icy blue, rove over the dismembered body and body parts with that look of revulsion.
But, she pushes her personal distaste aside and arches her brow as she speaks. "So, it appears that something untoward happened, here. Whatever these…creatures…were, they meant Logan harm and, judging by the fact that he's not present, something must have happened to him that has left him unable to get in touch with us," she says in a voice that's far calmer than one might imagine a witness to such sickening sights could manage. "Now, does anyone recall when last they spoke to Logan? Has he spoken to anyone about anything that might lead us in directions for useful investigation?" she asks, looking at everyone. Except Scott. Her eyes just breeze past him, as though he isn't present.
Cassandra Cain hears something along the lines of something happened not in this direction but here. Then something about creatures. This is curious. She had lunch with him once, so that's what she replied as she surveys this crime scene with her own brand of dispassionate cool,"While ago."
She's at a loss for the term for three weeks ago. Cassandra's brow arches ever so subtly as she proceeds to inspect the dismembered corpse, trying to see if it's anyone they know.
Lorna finally stumbled in, running her hands through her hair. And then promptly was stumbling back out, her features sheet white, then ashen and then looking vaguely green in a way that had nothing to do with her hair. She clapped her hands over her mouth and nose, looking like she was struggling not to be sick at the sight of mutilated bodies and gore. It was clearly a losing battle, being hung over already and she gags as she stepped back out into the fresh air outside the cabin.
A mental response of 'I haven't seen him', follows, as she was clearly too close to losing her lunch to respond vocally. Small favors that Emma could read her mind.
Julie shrugs to Scott, while also shrugging on her jacket, she breaks into a bit more of a run to keep up, when Scott does. She says, none too quietly, "I dunno, Miss Frost said 'careful haste,' but it sounded bad. Or I got too many fumes off something." Dizzy's still not very used to telepathy, really. She follows Scott's lead, though, realizing he probably knows the place much better in the dark. She puts the light in her left hand and plucks out one of her improvised bolas partway from her jacket pocket, just running or jogging in the dark toward who-knows what. "He got a back door?" she asks, along the way, as they run, but sooner or later finds herself inside. And caught flatfooted by what she sees. There's a pause. Then another pause. She raises a finger. "Arright, I dunnow what this is."
Remy holds out his arm as Lorna passes by and, assuming she does not shove it out of the way, slides across her stomach as she vacates the premises. Well, this has been a pretty terrible way to start the day. But as Lorna walks away, he walks towards the man and kneels down. "Welp, hate t'say it but dis guy lookin' pretty dead." He looks up to Scott. "Whatchu t'inkin, boss man?"
Scott gags as he steps into the cabin, pulling a handkerchief out of his back pocket and shaking it out before he holds it to his nose and mouth. It's enough to let him step all the way inside, going about his own investigation without answering Emma. "Well, if they'd made off with anyone but Logan, I'd ask Logan to see if he could track where they got in," he muses, grimacing as he looks back toward the door. "Might tell us where they'd taken him. Had to be more than this. And that one," he nods toward the arm, "Must have been able to get away despite the injury."
He scrubs a hand over his hair, shaking his head at Remy's question. "Looks like we need to reconsider our perimeter defenses, at least. This is two dead and one severely injured, which means at the very least, we had four intruders here and none of us knew it. Tracking them back to where they got in is probably our best bet at tracking them back to Logan."
Cassandra's investigations will reveal another set of triplicate-slashes in the body of the tentacled man, making the source of his death rather obvious. He's wearing a waistcoat of some sort and almost old-fashioned clothes. Her eyes catch on something white inside - a tag from a shop named 'Old Tyme Wares'.
Everything, however, gets a little shaken up when the head in the sink suddenly snaps open its eyes and starts to scream, the tongue in its mouth wriggling and the teeth in said appendage snapping of their own accord with a clickety-clack sound like knitting needles.
Cassandra Cain rips the tag away as she can't read but assumes its important. Her next instinct is to run to the sink and snatch the head by the hair, slinging it against the wall with the force of revulsion. She ughs at this situation, her brows knitted as she regards the weird tongue in its mouth.
Cassie walks over to Emma and holds out the tag for her, saying,"Words. Can't read."
Lorna didn't shake off Remy's arm, and leans against the door frame heavily as she tried to keep from being sick. She clamped down on her lower lip, closing her eyes and started counting backwards. When Remy and Scott spoke, she lowered her hand. "I don't know about Mister Logan, but I know his son Akihiro was running from some guys in Mutant Town. He was talking about a bunch of stuff. I can't remember." She muttered.
Then the head started screaming and she jumped, whirling around to peer inside and then dizzily stumble back. "Ohmygod."
Julie doesn't seem quite able to register what she's seeing, or, for that matter, smelling. The screaming head in the sink is… something that rattles her, though Cass quickly does something about it to whatever effect. Still, a few loose items in the room spin or roll around of their own accord. "Arright, I don't get it," she says, and, looking a little green, by her facial expression, slips out where Lorna is. She pauses for breath, then hrms. Distracting herself. "Now if I was an undercooked calamari…." She clicks the angle-headed flashlight on, toward the lake.
"You tinkin' we should mebbe call de po-po?" Remy asks Scott. "Dun know what de rules are bout dat sorta ting here. Figure de Professor and Frost can get dem to look past all de tings we'd want dem to look past." His head tilts, "As t'how dey get in, Remy got no clue." LeBeau looks to Lorna with a bit of worry and makes his way out of the room and towards her. He's pretty sure she's going to puke, but when the head starts screaming, even he jumps!
Scott turns toward the sudden sound, dropping the handkerchief in favor of a finger at the trigger on his visor only to blink at the screaming head. "Yeah, okay, that…makes more sense." Only to Scott would that make more sense.
"If you're going after the guy with the claws…" He pushes up, stepping toward the screaming head. "You send people who can make it through getting cut up. Argus here," he nods to the eye-covered arm. "And…this guy. Starfish can regenerate. Maybe Squids here can, too," he adds with a look to the corpse.
He grimaces, looking to wherever the head has ended up. "If it's alive, then there's thoughts of some sort or another," he notes.
The head just keeps screaming at first, incoherent at first, just inarticulate, ragged crying and yelling. After a moment, it seemes to be trying to form words, but, lacking all of its vocal chords, the result coming out of its maw is gibbering, although he/she/it seems to be repeating the same thing over and over again.
Whether the tentacle man can regenerate or not, he certainly gives all appearances of being totally dead. Emma will not sense any psychic presence from him at all. The arm, too, appears still.
Emma looks at Cass' direct, immediate involvement in the scene with distinct approval. Yes, it's gruesome. Yes, it smells horrific. Yes, it's way too early in the morning for this kind of nonsense. But, there's a job to be done and standing outside or on the outskirts isn't going to suffice. When Cassandra brings over the tag, she sends the girl psychic waves of appreciation and praise for her efforts, and for turning something up that could prove useful. She accepts the tag and reads it aloud. "Is this a costume shop? A thrift store? I'm not familiar with the name," she says, looking up from the tag.
Looking to Lorna, who's only just keeping herself from losing whatever might remain in her stomach, Emma fixes her with a weighty stare. There's a lot she wants to talk about with the green-haired young woman, but now is definitely not the time. "Lorna, if it's even a hint of a possibility, we need to speak with Akihiro and find out more from him," she says. Then, overhearing her name tossed about carelessly despite her being present in the room, she levels a glare in Remy's direction. "Is that so, Monsieur Lebeau?" she asks rhetorically, drily, pursing her lips. "I'm present, so you may direct comments to me, if they're regarding me," she says.
Then, the head is screaming. And, screaming. And, trying to speak but without the full complement of vocal chords. So, Emma dives into the head's mind and bids him be silent with the screaming and communicate whatever he wishes to say with her in this telepathic manner. Meanwhile, she begins digging through his mind for what information she can find. Aloud, she says, "Later, when it's lighter, I can probably dredge the bottom of the lake, but I'll need some form of light that can withstand being underwater."
Cassandra Cain quirks a half grin at the approval as she folds her arms loosely. At the questioning concerning the tag, she replies,"Dunno. Never heard."
Cassandra will look over to the others then. Her gaze travels from Lorna to Remy to Scott, then around. Her expression is largely neutral. If she isn't immune to the stink of death, she's doing a good job of hiding it. It isn't an unfamiliar smell to her, alas. She's well aquainted with such stink.
Yep, there goes her lunch. A heave and it was gone outside at least. The green haired mutant left trembling as she clutched at the doorway and tried to catch her breath enough to respond to Emma Frosts' questions about her run in with Akihiro. "I dunno details." She groaned, her eyes closing. Another cough and a heave. Oh gosh why did the head have to jiggle like that when it had been trying to talk?
It made her already upset stomach twist. It wasn't that gore had ever been a problem for her, but oh god, a hangover like she had and severed body parts that would make a horror movie was not what she wanted to wake up to. A whimper followed.
"He mentioned something about the group that made him.. like.. like his father? I dunno. They both are all metal. He hid out at my table at a cafe.." She supplied. "I forget the name that he said. Think it's them?"
"Well, dat young man be de field leader, non? Dun look like a school issue, on account dat Logan ain't a student at de school so far as I know. And," Remy nods towards a window. "Dat be a field out dere, non?" He shrugs his shoulders at Emma but immediately winces as Lorna begins to vomit. Oops. His eyes trail to Emma and Scott, then to Emma and Scott. Who is in charge here, he's not sure. He should probably have a cigarette and go check on Lorna. He walks towards the door.
Julie seems too disconnected from whatever-it-was she just saw to do much more than play her flashlight over the ground, …she's thinking of monster movies and …obviously there should be signs of creepy slime monsters or whatever if Logan were dragged away by Horrible Squid From The Landscaping. The gore…..Well, that's really not computing, still, but there's a welcome technical problem presented by Emma when she says, almost crestfallen about the answer, sort of raising a hand as if in a class. "I got my race mags here and a welder, those'll burn underwater if they get hot enough." It had better help, if so, she's thinking. But squid monsters.
The Professor is not normally one to come in guns blazing… metaphorically speaking. But when there's so much panic coming from Logan's cabin, the Professor runs across the lawn, sending terse messages to Emma as he gets an informed rundown of the situation. Dressed in his actually yellow-and-black combat uniform with the X-logo on it, he almost looks superhero-ish instead of… well, a bit of a bookish Professor.
Catching his breath as he approaches the cabin, his thoughts echo out to everyone in the room, Emma, thanks for the call. Scott, what's the current situation? Pardon the telepathic link, but I need to catch my breath a bit. He then looks around at everyone gathered, and the sight that's reminiscent of some horrible horror movie, blinking in surprise as, well, sure he received the mental impressions… but actually seeing it is something else.
"Weapon X," Scott provides to clarify Lorna's comment. "Although we thought we took them down. Can't say I'm surprised to hear they'd still be kicking around, though." Retrieving the dropped handkerchief, he wipes his hands off once more, digging oil and grime out of his knuckles as if it can remove the stench of the blood in the air.
He half-turns as Charles arrives, looking none too pleased at the situation. "Logan's gone, though he left us some bodies. One dead, one arm that suggests there was another, and one not entirely dead head that Miss Frost is currently…interrogating, I suspect. Not sure yet how or where they got in, or why they came for Logan. Lorna says his son mentioned run-ins with the Weapon X program, but I feel like they would've policed their brass, not left the bodies here."
Cassandra Cain looks to the Prof as he runs out. Her arms are folded as she sighs at the drama around her, seeming genuinely disconnected from it all. She'll look up to Emma with an arched brow, then proceed to the exit not sure what else she can do here. There's a dead cephalopoidal body nearby and a gibbering decapitated head with a weird tongue, and an arm covered in eyes. This isn't her league.
The head's thoughts aren't terribly coherent at first. As you might expect for a decapitated head. Its screams do indeed stop on Emma's command, leaving only the undulate wriggling noise of its inhuan tongue squirming.
The thoughts in its head seem to focus around a single name: Rodrigo. Repeated over and over again. It's filled with an intense sense of bereavement and loss. Again, as one might expect from a decapitated head. Deeper memories would be harder to access through the trauma - and Emma and Charles can both sense the psychic energies in the thing fading. It may still be alive but not for much longer.
Which probably makes it worse when the tongue actually detaches from its mouth, squirting out of the sink and onto the floor and wriggling wildly as it streaks towards the nearest warm body - in this case, the newly arrived Professor Xavier!
Lorna shifted around to look back inside once she was mostly certain that she wasn't going to heave up whatever was left in her stomach again, not that there was much left at this point anyways. She staggered back in the doorway as the Professor came racing inside. A rough exhaled followed, and she pressed a hand against her eyes briefly. "Like I said, I dunno the details. It was the only thing I could think of—" She breaks off abruptly at the wiggling tongue that hopped out of the sink.
She screamed, and stumbled over her feet in a rush to get outside and well away from whatever the thing was.
Glaring at Remy, Emma is silent as she wades through the telepathic information of the dying thing in the sink. "As far as I'm aware, Charles Xavier is in charge of everything. I discovered this horror show while others were tinkering with mechanics or trying to sleep off hangovers from over-imbibing. Regardless, if you speak my name with me in the room, you may address me directly," she says in a steely voice, making rather sharp points with her words. Then, she exhales in relief, looking up as Charles arrives— the severed head's fading brains wailing and lamenting Rodrigo. Whoever the hell /that/ is.
Emma's eyes narrow almost imperceptibly when Charles addresses Scott, first, but she lets it pass. For now. She has no interest in being in charge of the X-Men, and she's made that painfully clear. She means it. — When the tongue detaches from the mouth and begins slithering across the floor toward Charles, she watches as Cassandra darts in and /STOMPS/ as hard as she can on the disgusting thing. Whether it's dead or not, Emma wants to ensure that Cassandra is safe, since she seems to have no fear of the strange thing. So, telepathically, she asks Cass to go question the rest of the students about the name of the shop on the label, to see if any of them have ever heard of it. She smiles faintly as Cassandra nods and makes her exit from the area as silently and efficiently as she'd arrived. Emma's eyes turn to the creature on the floor. …Is it dead?
"Sorry, chere. Ole Remy dun answer t'ya. Ain' no disrespect, but dat man be my boss." Remy nods toward Scott, but as luck would have it, sees Xavier enter and he breathes a sigh of relief. At least now there's no confusion about who is in charge here. "Prof," the cajun says as he nods. But then, as the tongue leaps out and does what it does, Remy is leaving right now. "Nope. Non. Non. Dat shit is too much, man, I'm dun. Ole Remy is out." He is shaking his head and holding his hands out, waving at the wrists saying, "Pas Plus. Pas plus."
Julie's glance darts about at the comings and goings, then to Lorna, then comes back to the doorway, looking like she's about to say something, but not quite seeming to register what the lamprey-tongue could possibly be.
The Professor drops into a stance almost immediately, though he pauses as Cassandra's heel hopefully kills the thing, or at least keeps it from leaping at him in some twisted fashion. At Remy's comments, he frowns, "Considering Ms. Frost's position at the school, I would hope that you treat her with at least the same level of respect that you would treat me, regardless of the fact that she's not officially an X-Man." He doesn't bother not saying the X-word with the current cast of characters here in the cabin, or directly outside, instead continuing, "So, Logan left, or was taken… considering he hasn't contacted us yet, probably the latter, but then again, this is Logan so him going to take care of the problem himself without us isn't entirely out of character. Though leaving this behind certainly is." The Professor actually looks rather unfazed by the twisted scene, but then again, people forget what exactly he's seen before sometimes.
As far as the pinned tongue itself is concerned, he tilts his head, and uses his telepathy on the thing. Communicating with animals is something he can do, after all, and if it is acting independently, he might be able to discern something more from it if it has its own thoughts… even if they are primitive ones. Assuming that Cass didn't kill it anyway, which also won't upset him too much.
Scott doesn't hesitate when the tongue starts scurrying across the floor. He fires a blast at it, aiming to knock it away from the professor. He sighs as Remy and Lorna both take their leave, scrubbing a hand across his face and turning to take another look at the carnage. "Pretty sure that smell's never coming out of this place," he grimaces. "Guess Logan can decide when we get him back if he wants to burn the place or douse it in bleach." He looks to the professor though, waiting for the results of presumed psychic inspection.
The thing was squooshed. Mucho splatter. Not pretty. Cassandra's reflexes are lucky sharp enough that she can withdraw her foot from the squishing before Scott's blast hits the vicinity, sending the squished tongue flip flopping up in the air from where it stuck to the sole of Cass's foot for a moment. It sticks to the ceiling.
It doesn't seem to have any other thoughts except BURROWDIGBITEKILL for a brief moment that Xavier can read it.
tThe head is still connected to Emma's mind. She can finally dig out of it a glimpse of Rodrigo and that answers a bit of a question of its own. Rodrigo resembles the face greatly, but a little different, a bit more human looking, a bit more obviously masculine. And quite, quite close, viewed from almost point blank range.
Because the head in the sink wasn't the only head its body has. And Rodrigo seems to have left his sibling behind to die. Which she promptly does.
Lorna creeped back in, she hadn't fled the area entirely. Just stayed outside until the sound of Scott's eyeblast followed by the sound of his voice. She poked her head in, her stomach still queasy. "Is it dead?" She asked, hesitantly stepping inside the cabin again. She picked her way carefully over, tugging her shirt up to her nose and covering her mouth.
"What was that?" Her voice muffled and small sounding.
Emma shares the information she gets with Charles through their mind-link— about how the head in the sink was, apparently, a twin to Rodrigo…who left her to die. Conjoined twins. "He can't live long without her, can he?" she asks Charles aloud. It probably makes no sense to anyone else present. For now.
Julie just looks toward Lorna, just seeming a bit disconnected. "Believe me, baby," she says to Lorna, "I think it's some kind of zombie squid monsters or something, but what do I know."
The Professor shakes his head, "Probably not, no. Good… work finding that out, Emma." He hesitates only because 'good' is not really a fitting word to describe any of this situation, though he looks at Scott with a wry expression, "Nice shooting." He takes a deep breath, "That… tongue, really only had thoughts of murder in mind, such as they were. Very primitive."
When Lorna speaks, the Professor gently puts an arm around her, slipping a bit in persona from X-Leader to Uncle Charlie as he says, "Are you okay Lorna? They didn't hurt you or the others, did they?" He glances over at Julie, and nods slightly.
"If they took anyone else, they haven't come up missing yet," Scott shakes his head. "Whoever they were, they were on a mission to get Logan. Don't know why, don't know how, don't know where they took him, but it sure looks like they managed. Which is inconvenient, as he's sort of our best tracker."
Lorna's hair was already a mess before she had stumbled out to the cabin, her dress rumpled, she had returned to the safe style of sundresses that weren't likely to get her weird looks. Under the smell of her having been sick at the sight of gore, of course, was the scent of bourbon. Still, she curled up under the gentle arm that was offered and buried her features against Charles' arm.
"I'm okay." She mumbled, closing her eyes as she wrapped her arms around her 'Uncle Charlie' as it were.
Emma has had enough. "Well, I've done what I can," she says and presses onto her toes to kiss Charles on the cheek before she begins making her way out of the cabin. She pats Julie on the shoulder, and gives Lorna a pointed look as she goes. She doesn't bother with Scott, of course. And, she's on her way back to the mansion-proper, aiming to take a very long, very HOT bath. Of course, she can't quite bleach her mind, but such is the life of a telepath.
Charles hugs Lorna, though he can't help but smile at the kiss from Emma, even in a cabin that looks like it was on the losing end of a horde of Deadites. Then he frowns, sniffing a bit as he looks at Lorna, "If you were drinking bourbon, my dear, I hope it was good bourbon at least. But we'll worry about that later." He doesn't let Lorna go, making the observation into a joke to try and get Lorna's mind off of, well, everything else that happened this evening. He looks over at Scott at the mention of tracking, "I'll get Cerebro going, so we can see if we can track Logan that way. Though if they were able to infiltrate the grounds, detecting Logan might not be possible. But we can still try."
"I'll get a perimeter set up, check the roster for any other trackers," Scott says once Emma's left, grimacing after the woman. "I'll keep you updated, professor," he nods once, then heads out as well.
Julie seems to just then notice the splintered door, or remnants thereof, toying with a remaining hinge with a finger. She'd really rather think about how it broke than whatever's inside there. Just nods slowly at Emma's pat on the shoulder, seeming to appreciate that. "Maybe I ought to go get some stuff."