People always tried to make it hard with Rogue; Logan was always of the mindset that if she didn't want to be touched or pushed for any number of good reasons, well, he was the last person to touch or push.
He gave her a snort nod of acknowledgement as she pushed the glass over, only reaching out to claim it when she'd fully retreated. Whiskey and beer - couldn't ask for more than that. He still insisted on paying for her drink.
It took him a moment to realize she didn't recognize him. He didn't have that trouble; most people at least smelled the same, or close enough to count. Glancing over, he said. "'S me." ...which, granted, wasn't all that helpful. Since this whole thing seemed to encourage displaying powers, he set his fist on the table and let just the tips of his claws poke out from his knuckles. Which hurt and bled. But that was why he drank.