Log: Tommy and Logan Who; Tommy and Logan When; March 7th, afternoon Where; The hallway on the second floor What; Logan runs into Tommy -- and notices her drawings are more than just some scribbles. And one of them is of him half naked, so of COURSE he wants to see what's up.
Scott was on the chopping block for the good of the world and Logan's longtime rival would be gone. Rival for what, these days? Jean was dead, and Logan knew that he really never had any claim on her. She was Scott's, she always had been, and Logan just had a knack for wanting what he couldn't have. With Jean dead, Logan could go on disliking Scott but couldn't think of him as a rival. He was a good leader, he was a smart man, even if they didn't get along. Logan respected him, and... he didn't want him dead.
And in the end, he most likely would be. Alex was supposed to go get him, but what would a pipsqueak like Alex do? Logan had pretty much written Scott off as dead these days, and... he wasn't quite sure how he felt about that. He knew he wasn't happy about it.
In Scott's absence he was teaching double gym classes, combining groups so the students still had gym. The ages were mixed and it was a pain in the ass. Too many kids, but they knew better than to mess around with Logan the first time he hung a kid up by his shorts. It wasn't like whipping out the claws, but he wasn't allowed to do that with the little ones.
He was on his way back to his room after showering down in the locker room. Shoes tied together at the laces and slung over his shoulder, it looked like he hadn't bothered with a towel. His clothes were damp and he was plodding along in bare feet, leaving a wet trail everywhere he went.
Tommy was spending less time with Kurt these days; they had their own issues, Kurt had the X-Men, and Tommy ... well, Tommy was obsessing over her artwork. She was almost frenzied about it, her hand seeming to move independently from the rest of her -- so even after visiting Kurt and having him go off to do something, she'd plopped right down by the stairs with her paper and colored pencils.
So when Logan walked by, he dripped on her artwork, making the deep red of her subject's hair bleed across the page, blurring with her sweater. "Couldn't use a towel?"
Logan sniffed, ruffling a hand through his hair so water droplets went everywhere. "No need." He offered her a wolfish grin and stalked behind her so he could take a look at the painting Tommy was working on. Oh----shit, he'd gotten it wet. That wasn't that nice of him.
It wasn't that she had any particular affection for whatever it was she was drawing. She honestly had no idea who it was -- just that the woman had long red hair, dressed well. Levitated things, by the look of the pose she was in, cradling the air around a surgical needle. "Don't you get smelly if you stay damp too long?"
Logan wasn't interested in what she was talking about, but instead he crouched down to get a better look at exactly what the hell she was doing. "...What's this."
"This?" Tommy tilted her pad. "No idea."
"What's the rest of the picture." Logan frowned, tilting his head and shoving his hair back, wiping his chin so he didn't drip on the page any more than he already had.
"Don't know yet." It was a little infuriating, but lately, she didn't seem to know too much about what the hell was going on until it was over. "I'll have to keep going to find out."
Logan grunted. "Keep going."
Tommy gave him a look, and then shook her head, looking back down. "You're lucky I work well with an audience," she muttered, putting her pencil back down. The red and blue pencils were tucked behind her ears and in her ponytail along with shades of gray and white, but she was working in graphite for the general shape. Tommy didn't talk to Logan much, really didn't know him aside from what she'd heard from Kurt, but she could easily pretend he wasn't there when she was working.
And the longer she worked, the more form the drawing took; she drew fast, but detailed, sketching out the background of what must have been the medlab. A table with someone on it. Tommy's hand stopped when she realized who it was, pencil hovering. "Holy..."
"Thought so." Logan stood again, taking a heavy step back. "You been askin' questions around here or do you have a gift you didn't tell us about?" Though his suspicions were confirmed, it was still a bit of a shock. He'd been unconscious at the time, but he remembered waking up on that table. He remembered Jean's red sweater and glasses... when he woke up and tried to kill her before realizing she wasn't there to kill him. "The hell, Tommy."
Tommy just stared at him for a moment -- as if she'd expected it was his fault. "What the hell are you talking about? I have better things to do than ask around, you know."
"So..." He tilted his head toward the picture.
"I have no idea," she repeated. "I've been drawing a lot of things I have no clue about lately." To prove her point, she flipped down previous pages. None of the scenes seemed to follow a pattern. The next one was of the Statue of Liberty, white light spreading out onto the city; Scott and Storm in a snowstorm; the Professor sick; Spider-Man and Mary Jane on a web; Arla and Remy; a couple in sunglasses, the woman handing the man an envelope; a blonde woman offering a drink to an overweight cop. Things she really had no personal memory or knowledge of. "Maybe it's a power. I don't know."
Logan took the sketchbook from her so he could flip through them himself, feeling the hairs at the back of his neck stand up. It set off all kinds of warning bells in his head and he recognized a lot of the images. "Don't rule it out," he said, pushing the book back into her hands. "That it's a power. I know most of 'em. Ask around and you might find answers to 'em all. But this is stuff that's happened."
Tommy paused for a moment, and then she was pushing herself up to her feet, holding her pad in one hand and fishing through her pocket. It was a possibility she'd entertained, but this just wasn't the time to go around asking people if they recognized things -- and if Logan was here now and knew them, it was a chance to take, wasn't it? "What about this, then?" What she pulled out was a piece of notebook paper that she'd been scribbling on while Xavier had been talking about Scott's situation. It was Scott, chained to a wall -- with Rogue and Pyro looking on.
Logan looked it over, scanning the picture and lingering on Rogue for a few seconds too long. Of course. "I'd bet this is what's going on," he muttered.
"You might want to tell Emma and the Professor," she suggested, feeling more confident in voicing it now that someone other than herself seemed to think her doodles were more than just doodles. "I don't know how much help it'll be, since this probably already happened, but..." Tommy shrugged.
"I might wanna tell Emma and Chuck?" Logan snorted, grabbing a chair and tugging it over so it could sit. He really didn't give a damn if he got it soaking wet. "Any reason why you ain't done it?"
"And deal with Emma telling me I have an overactive imagination and should just stay in a corner with my doodles? Please." Even sitting down, he was around her height. ...Damn it. "The X-Men aren't my job."
"Yeah, that's what I said, too, and then they shoved me in a uniform and said go," said Logan, muscles bulging as he folded his arms across his chest.
"You're different. I'm just a short woman with pretty colors and a blue boyfriend. I'm not seeing battle anytime soon." Thank God. She hated fighting; Tommy was much better at running away.
Logan snorted, not buying it. "Word has it 'round here you've got good aim with a semi-automatic and an arsenal in your bedroom. Just because you draw pictures doesn't mean you gotta fight, though. When you got something that looks important... don't keep it hidden in a damn notebook." He stood, glancing down at the chair. Yep. Soaked.
"The ability to blow people's brains out with a semi-automatic doesn't mean I can hack it in the real world. It means I'm a scared, trigger-happy Morlock. Totally different things." Tommy sounded a little bitter; it wasn't nice knowing she'd killed someone. Twice. It definitely didn't make her X-Men material, that was for sure. "If I see Scott again, I'll tell someone."
"Don't keep your mouth shut," Logan said, a damp hand coming down on Tommy's head in something like a pat. She was tiny, but she was tough, and Logan tended to have a fatherly sense of protection for girls like that.
He started to go, and then he turned back to her with a frown. "Uh. You draw any more of me, let me know." Logan had a past. A lot of past... and most of it he knew nothing about. He wouldn't recognize it if he was looking at it, but... maybe it would trigger something.
Tommy didn't particularly seemed to mind him touching her; she hadn't lost much of her old touchy-feely Morlock habits, so it felt almost natural. Even if Logan was big and grouchy and ... smelly. Like a wet dog.
Smoothing back her hair, she answered, "Sure."
Logan gave another noncommittal sound and nodded, and without a goodbye he was gone, stalking back to his room.