"You moan like a woman," Logan growled at him under his breath, making it sound like an insult. It was meant as one. He still wore the same expression on his face as when he'd knocked Ford out. It was as if that tired, disgusted glare had frozen his features as he waited for the man to come to.
"So yer in bed with Magneto. Color me surprised," he continued in that same low grumble. This wasn't a conversation he wanted others to be privy to, for his own reasons. Everything he hated about Vanisher's motivations was mainly because they closely mimicked his own when he first came to Westchester. He'd been hired by Magneto to take Charles out, but Wolverine had somehow had a change of heart once he'd seen what Xavier and his mutants were all about. He still didn't agree with some of their methods, but that was neither here nor there. There was one thing at the forefront of his mind. A question he wasn't even going to ask. If this were Creed or some pro assassin, he would have asked him outright, and quite possibly gotten a straight answer. This kid was no pro. Not even a little bit.
"If you think you're here to kill Charlie you'd best forget about it right quick. I've got your scent, boy." Logan narrowed his eyes for effect. "I hope you did your research. I hope, for your sake, that you know what me having your scent means," he said, as dangerously as he could. Coming from Logan, that was plenty. Everyone knew there was a feral beast prone to berserker rages just under Logan's cultivated, barely civil demeanor. Logan's valiant clinging to his humanity was an act of an iron will on his part. Any tiny scratch past that all-too-thin veneer of control might unleash the terrifying animal within.