"That's quite a getup. If you survived Central Park in that then I'm sure you've got some skills," he pressed through a lopsided grin. He downed the shot and and took a swig of his fresh beer.
"Yeah," he replied, nodding twice. "Long time."
Logan suddenly raised his face and took a whiff of the crowd. Good, he thought. That Vanisher kid was around. He'd recognize the stink anywhere. There were other scents he knew, but they were hard to place over all the fancy perfumes, body washes, shampoos, booze and cleaning products that all together threatened to overwhelm his feral nose. Another reason why he hated crowds. They made the hunter, the feral part of him, uneasy.