1965-06-20 - Nice to Meet You
Summary: A brief if prickly encounter outside the Institute.
Related: None
Theme Song: None
thea logan scott-summers 

It's a sunny day in Westchester and there's a nice and steady breeze blowing through the area that keeps it relatively cool, especially in the shade. Being outside of the city allows the Institute to enjoy some peace and quiet away from the crowded streets and relentless traffic. Today is no different aside from the sound of the leaves constantly rustling against the wind. Overall it really is a perfect day.

Until Logan spoils the fresh air and serenity with his motorcycle. A rumble gradually approaches the mansion, growing steadily until the runt can be seen entering the property. A cigar perched between his teeth and a white tank top that appears to either have one of those new psychedelic patterns on it or a pretty hefty blood stain. Given that his face and legs look similar, it's probably safe to say he's getting home from a fun night out.

Pulling up to the steps leading to the front door, Logan lurches the bike to the side, resting it on the stand and shutting the engine down. A grunt escapes his throat as he hoists himself off and takes a look around the property, closing his eyes to take in the fresh air and sunlight. It's good f'r the body and considering there are bullet holes in his clothes and healing cuts on his face and arms, he looks like he could use it.

Scott's just stepping out of the front door. He has on a white linen shirt, red tie, blue slacks and his trademark ruby-quartz glasses. His hair is freshly shorn and he's clean-shaven. He smells of shaving cream and aftershave and perhaps a hint of the coffee he drank in his office ten minutes ago, at least to Logan's nose.

"I'd repeat an old idiom about discretion and the better part of valor, but I fear it would fall on deaf ears. I hope, at the very least, you neither have anyone in pursuit or have any resultant warrants for us to concern ourselves with? The Institute's lawyers are more geared towards civil matters than criminal." he says. For all his square nature, he seems more amused than anything by Logan's state of affairs, even as he presents a sharp counterpoint with his crisp, pristine appearance.

Logan had passed a shiny black sedan on his way in, and now it pulls in. There's a blonde disembarking, sliding money to the driver before he pulls away. She certainly doesn't look like a cop, at the very least. Blonde hair is up in a sophisticated twist, to better display the diamond and amethyst clusters in her ears and dangling at the base of her throat. The dress is silk moire, a pale lavender that is echoed in the gray and lavender heels. There's a bag dangling from one hand, showing there's some weight within.

She'll approach both of the men, brows lifted. "I have some imported goods for the Professor." Brown eyes sweep over Logan, and she sighs. "Do I even want to know what happened to you?" She looks like Scott would be far more her type than the man all bloody and dirtied.

Everyone is looks like Scott would be far more their type. Til they get a load o' the ole Canucklehead, that is. It's no secret around these parts that Logan and Slim have had their differences of opinion about a number of things, as well as a few things they agree upon. Which in their case has been the biggest point of contention. But hey, that shit's old news at this point and all that remains is to give the man a hard time for the sake of giving him a hard time.

Logan's eyes are still closed and he's still enjoying the sensation of everything as Scott opens the door and steps outside. He can smell the various shaving products as well as the coffee almost instantly, drawing his eyes open to greet the boy scout with his usual unassuming gaze. "You an' I both know there ain't any fun in discretion," he says through his teeth and cigar, managing to curl one corner of his mouth into a half grin. "An' the lawyers can go try'n win me a new set of clothes if they need somethin' to do, bub." He holds out an arm slightly to survey the healing wounds, "or get me some compensation f'r the injuries."

As the car pulls into the driveway behind him, he glances over his shoulder to see Thea stepping out to survey his injuries. Looking back at Scott, he tilts his head in Thea's direction, "Guess you can ignore that last one then." And back at Thea, "Nothin' major. Just ran into some assholes in town an' had to teach 'em some manners."

Scott Summers gives a long-suffering sigh as he comes down the steps and makes himself level. He's tall, well over six feet, with a trim but athletic build, broad shouldered. "I'll keep it in mind. Try to at least keep the furor down to a dull roar while Jean's away. I know she's used to your shenanigans, but I'm not as practiced as of yet," he says.

He gives a smile and a nod to Thea, adjusting his tie for a moment, "Somehow I doubt they learned a great deal about etiquette," he says. "The Professor's indisposed at the moment. Anything you can fill me in on or is it for his eyes only?"

Thea sighs, rolling her eyes. "Manners. Right." There's a hint of amusement in her facial expression, and Logan's wounds would heal even faster as the blonde looks at him. "Don't you dare muss this dress by hugging me until you've cleaned up. This is one of the few I actually care about, and it is the easiest way to placate my mother that I have not lost all refinement with my working life." There's some dry sarcasm in that last.

Brown eyes look over at Scott, a cool sweep down and up. "It's more for his collection only. The Professor has a liking for certain imports I have a line on. If you could make sure he gets this?" She will offer the bag to Scott. "I don't want to intrude."

The bloody man considers walking towards her pretending to give her a hug anyway, but as he suddenly feels his healing kick into overdrive, it makes him go a bit lightheaded and stops him for a moment. He's not used to feeling the blood course through his body at this rate so it always manages to catch him off guard when Thea starts messin' around with his chemistry. "Wouldn't dream of it, darlin'," he says with a quick wink.

"They learned somethin'," he says over to Scott before Thea makes her way over to him and offers him the bag. He's content to stand idly by and chew on his cigar and pollute the air while they discuss the business at hand.

"Ah, I see. I'm sure you can leave it in his study, then," he says, not moving to take the item. He had thought it might have been some piece of intelligence or X-men business, not a personal matter.

"So long as they're still breathing to apply the lesson, I hope," he says. "I'm afraid I have to agree with your ladyfriend, Logan. You're in dire need of a bath. But then, aren't you usually?"

She will look amused at Scott. "Did you think I was bringing some sort of spy intel? That's cute." Brown eyes are lit with humor now, as she regards Scott. "Ladyfriend."

She will half turn, looking at Logan, jaw tensing. "Did he just relegate me to being a ladyfriend?" It looks like Thea may actually be offended. Then she will turn back to Scott, and Logan may actually have to be the voice of reason, here in a minute. "I'd prefer a little blood and dirt on a real man, than cheap aftershave on a pansy prettyboy. Really, did you splash on cat urine? Or are you trying to chase off the ladies?"

For perhaps the first time and may be last time in his life, Logan steps in to defend Scott. Almost as soon as the words leave Slim's mouth, his eyes widen and he sees Thea tense up. He steps forward as she unleashes her pretty brutal outburst on the X-Man and gets between them. He would rest his hand on her shoulder but, again, he doesn't want to get his grimy mess all over her clean outfit. He glances at Scott with an intent glance, shaking his head only slightly before turning back at Thea with a slight grin.

"Can't believe I'm sayin' this, but go easy on 'im darlin', he didn't mean anything by it," he says after pulling the cigar from his mouth. "Near as I can tell he was avoidin' being presumptuous is all." He looks at her for a moment to reassure her that shit is alright before putting the cigar back into his mouth. A hand raises and his fingers slip through his wild hair as he turns and glances at Scott.

Scott's expression seems a bit blank in response to the sudden vitriol. "I seem to have touched a nerve," he says. "I'm not sure but her tongue might be sharper than your claws, Logan. Rest assured, I care very little about what you prefer nor am I trying to 'chase' any women. I smell the way I want to smell and dress the way I want to dress, all to please myself and only myself. Logan does the same. He wouldn't be any more comfortable in my suits than I would be in his boots."

"I don't consider being a ladyfriend a relegation. On the contrary. Women are almost always superior to men in most respects. Although there are always exceptions on both sides of that equation."

Those brown eyes will shift over to Logan's face, nearly scorching in that intensity. "Ladyfriend is often what is used, in some parts of the world, as a polite term for mistress or hired lady of the evening." Her teeth are pressed together, as she glares over Logan's shoulder. "It's not my tongue you should be worrying about."

She will take a deep breath. "If that is what pleases you, you clearly need to have your sense of smell and fashion assessed. I'll refer you to a good tailor." But it gets said with a smile.

'Oh boy,' Logan says internally as he bites down on his cigar and glances between the two. He sighs quietly and looks at Scott with another quick grin and a wink, "Don't think they make clothes like that in my size anyway, bub." As he speaks a thick cloud trails up from his lips and almost obscures his face.

Looking over his shoulder at Thea, he motions towards the mansion with a cock of the head, "Care for a drink since yer in the area?" He starts to make his way up the steps in an effort to end this interaction before much else is said. Hell, he doesn't even know why since he and Scott have never really seen eye to eye anyway. Guess there is a shred of respect for the man somewhere in that gruff exterior that makes him such a hit with the locals. "Got a few bottles o' whiskey with our names on 'em."

Scott, again, just gives a blank look towards Thea. "And I think you need to be assessed by a psychiatrist. But that's just my opinion," he says to the woman.

He moves to walk around the pair, "The Professor has a few bottles of whiskey for public consumption in the study, but if the cabinet's locked, drink at your peril. I don't partake myself. If your guest is going to spend the night on the grounds, make sure the night watch is informed. Wouldn't want her mistaken for an intruder. You have a pleasant day."

"Oh, you use a term of offense, use cheap aftershave, and I need to be assessed? I assure you, I've passed the assessments required by government security clearance." The Thea present now is the one Logan most often sees, her tone calm and completely recovered. "I should have known you wouldn't be world - travelled enough to know the possible insult. As for partaking, perhaps you should. It might help against the overstarched nature of your shirt. I'm sure the chafing is terrible."

She will look at Logan, brows lifting. "I'd prefer drinking somewhere more removed, myself. But I really just came to drop off the liquors the Professor has mentioned enjoying multiple times. I'd recently acquired a young lady in residence here to do it for me, but I wanted a chance to get out of the city."

Logan turns around at Thea's words with a quick nod. "At least let me get changed into somethin' a little less bloody, eh?" he says, cocking his head towards the mansion. He turns and trudges his way up to the top of the stairs with a grin on his face. He's gotta admit it's entertaining as hell to see someone around here give Scott a good verbal beating since most people around here wouldn't have the nerve to do so themselves. Maybe he'll get him a nice bottle of aftershave as a goodwill offering. He'll have to find one that doesn't smell too much like urine.

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