Re: Quicklog, Marvel: Logan & Steve R
[Steve swilled the stout once, eyes on it when Logan spoke next to him, gruff. He didn't know what a bad acid trip was, but he could guess. A fissure of concern appeared between blond brows, his face all youth, no hard corners even after years of war, long lashes blinked together at that murmured 'at least.'
His own memories were hazy, as lightless as the beer in his glass, and it was a foreign thing—his mind was supposed to act as a camera, photographic, eidetic and perfect, so the aimless mass, the stirrings of familiarity were entirely disconcerting. He knew names and he didn't. He had limited expectations, but they were still expectations and they threw him off.
Steve frowned hard, once, before he took a long drink of the stout. It was sweet and dark on his tongue. He wiped at the foam on his upper lip with a sleeve and finally looked back to Logan.] Years, huh? [He laughed, small, unhappy.] Is it like that for everyone?