Figured he'd be in a place like this. Shoulda looked fer him here sooner. Then again, Logan wouldn't even know why a place like this called out to him. Why he felt comfortable here. Funny thing was, last place like this probably held the runts worst nightmare, fer once it hadn't been Creed's hands that did the dirty work. It had been Logan's.
Smell of day old fish and soggy fruit made him cringe, forcing his usual scowl to contort even further. That's why he hadn't come round these parts. Stank ta high hell. His heavy frame was draped in a thick trench coat, one meant to hit the ground but on him it touched the backs of his knees. Buzz from the drinkin' with Faith had worn off even if he still smelled like a distillery.
Strolling past some fruit stand he reached out and grabbed a peach. It's what was on his mind. He'd bet a fuckin' thousand dollars that Slayer tasted just like one. As he kept on walkin' the lady at the stand was yellin' up a storm 'bout him stealin' her fruit. "Sorry, lady, what? Only speak English." Which of course was a lie. No highly trained operative got by on English alone.