Who: Logan (Wolverine), Leliana. What: Old flames catching up over drinks. When: Recent! Where: One of Logan's watering holes. Rating/Warnings: Mild language, but otherwise tame. Status: Complete!
The thing about dying (and not having a healing factor for that matter) was that sometimes you needed to make up for lost time. Lost time drinking, lost time fighting, lost time with the people you cared about. Today was a drinking day. Maybe a fighting day, though he’d learned some lessons from his experience. Maybe be just a little less reckless, because maybe some day he might not heal back again.
But drinking. Four bottles in and he was almost as sober as he started, and getting looks, but he didn’t care. Could stand to use another bottle. The bartender looked like he wanted to faint.
Not much about this particular area of California left Leliana bored, she’ll admit that much. Many dirty groups, so much gossip, all the whispers and murmurs caught in the wind - she hoarded them all, validated any kind of truthfulness behind them, and stored them away for use.
And then an interesting one graced her ear, about a certain someone that should have been dead, coming back to life, and likely occupying a frayed seat in a smoky bar drinking it away.
Leliana took the reigns of personally investigating this one. “Someone’s having a party all by his lonesome? Tsk, tsk,” chided the redhead, standing next to him with an unfaltering smile of calmness. “May I take a seat?”
Well that was a familiar voice, and a familiar scent. Even if he’d last known her long before he’d gained a super sniffer. Logan didn’t turn towards her, but he gestured with his glass. “Have a seat, darlin’. Ain’t really a party. Guess that depends on your definition of a party.”
Maybe it was the sound of her voice that gave her away; Leliana’s accent wasn’t something often heard around these parts. Sweet and velvety, with the undercurrent of deceit. “It looks like you’ve certainly drank for a party.” Those eyes of surprise glued to Logan hadn’t gone unnoticed, even to her.
When the bartender approached her, Leliana ordered something tart sounding, a drink of a bright color garnished with a cherry. “It has been awhile, no?” Awhile was putting it lightly.
Logan liked sweet and velvety, and he was used to that undercurrent of deceit. Many a woman had used that tone with him, but few of them were as lovely. He turned towards her, giving her a smile. He was a little older than she probably remembered, but he’d aged well. Too well. Toned (really, cut like a brick house) under his shirt, his hair bushy.
Leliana seemed to have aged as well. Harder, would be the word he’d use. “Long time. So what brings you out to California?”
Harder would have been an accurate descriptor, yes. “Quite a long time,” she agreed, stirring the cocktail with the little black straw that came with it. Instead of taking the first sip, she plucked the cherry from the alcoholic waters and pulled it from the stem with her teeth.
Perhaps she should have rehearsed a thing or two to say to him. Leliana had met many people through her travels; she’d gotten attached to some, slept with many, was close to ever loving only a few. Her line of work bred traitors and with that, the concept of something solid was something she learned to be wary about. Marjolaine was a deep scar. “It is a lovely area. Many of nice things in the vicinity, and you know I am a fan of things that are nice.”
Small talk, is what this was. He would know otherwise.
“I heard you were dead, Logan.”
"You know what they say. Rumors of my death, blah blah." Logan tapped the bar, signaling he needed another drink. Every time he got a little buzzed it went away. He already missed that. Sometimes, it was nice to be numb. He know something important was missing, and that people weren't telling him what. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know.
"An' you do got discernin' tastes, Leliana."
Rumors, was it? An eyebrow rose. “Despite the rumors, I had some validated information that you were dead. Rarely do I ever get fed bad intel, but…” Leliana stuck the stem in her mouth and after a couple seconds, she pulled it out, having used her tongue to form a knot. “I’ve come to realize that this place tends to be more odd than most places. It’s fascinating, really, how several people I know have converged to this one general location.”
Time to finally nurse that drink, and she took the first sip through the straw. “An Act of God? Fate? Coincidence? You have been here awhile, no? I am sure you have come up with your own ideas.”
“A few.” Kitty had her own theory and Logan generally agreed with it but you didn’t just mention multiple universe theory to an old flame who ‘randomly’ runs into you at the bar. “Still playin’ the old game?” He swiveled in his chair and gave her an amused smile. “Retirin’ to the bahamas too borin’ for you?”
So. Subject change.
A subject change, indeed. She had noticed the specific avoidance of his ‘death,’ regardless if it was real or truly a fabricated story. Blue eyes watched him carefully, twinkling in something devious, before those blush-pink lips stretched into the smallest of smiles. “It is the only game I play.”
Which meant that, yes, she was still up to her old gig. Her old tricks, her nitch. “I’m still quite young to retire, I’ll have you know!” Leliana hardly ever disclosed her age - most would actually be surprised, but they could see it in her eyes if they paid attention. Years of being hardened by the Grand Game, a thing she knew how to play rather well thanks to a woman she loved. Her giggle sounded like chimes in the wind, and she stirred the cubes of ice in her drink. “You know I cannot quit. Even if I wanted to. It is something I have learned to embrace.”
“Funny. You played a mean game of clue.” And one clue she isn’t getting are the claws. Not yet. He figured she’d find that out eventually.
Slowly, Logan lifted his glass, sipping at the dark liquid. He suddenly looked older. Decades older. centuries older. His eyes had seen more than most could see in a lifetime. “No. I don’t think you can ever quit that kinda game. It becomes a part of you. Seeps into your bones. Can’t get rid of it. No matter how hard you try.”
There was that part of him that missed simpler days. When he hadn’t been tortured by his dreams. At least they’d separated on good terms.
Logan, the wise brute. And the years had given him a little more of that. He was most certainly right, and with their history, she was more inclined to be less guarded around his company. He fit the category of ‘old friend’ and nothing of him reeked rotten. Logan, to her, was still someone she could place a semblance of trust in - a rare trait hardly ever found in people nowadays.
“You are certainly not wrong,” Leliana said, the smile sent his way genuine but tired. “I have been keeping an eye on you, over the years.” Not surprising. “I do that a lot, with people I like. I’m sorry about...what happened in Japan. Among other things.”
The rotten came with the dreams and Logan had spent a lot of energy to get past that in both lives. He was pretty good with where he’d gotten himself and where he stood in the world now. There was a certain peace with that.
“‘Course you have.” He smirked, and raised his glass to her. “Thanks. Yeah, that was a tough time. Bastard responsible got away …. for awhile.” He remembered putting the fucker down. But he didn’t completely remember when or how.
Leliana wouldn’t press further. Her intention wasn’t to open up old wounds and pour lemon juice on them, not at all. It was just her way of saying that she did sympathize. And maybe if she’d kept a closer eye, she could have helped in some way. She wasn’t an omnipotent presence that could be in multiple places at once. Though the ability sounded lovely, it just wasn’t possible, and she knew that. Her resources were, unfortunately, limited.
“How are you now? Truly?” There was something about him that seemed...off. Maybe it was the years of no contact, and maybe it was the years that changed him. Rumors about his death continued to bug her, and there was a flaw in the chain somewhere. Her eyes narrowed not into a glare, but into a look of skepticism.
“Now? Couldn’t be better.” Logan straightened, lifting up his new beer to give it a good swig. He set the bottle down and smirked at her. “Reconnected with friends. Found a daughter I didn’t know I had. Had a bike shop, it blew up, built another.” He rolled a shoulder. “Life is good, really.”
An odd reaction, she had to admit, from a man who had a fiance and a baby that had gotten up and admittedly left. Maybe he made peace with it already, but if he wasn’t going to bring that aspect of his past up, then neither would she. Honestly? Leliana would simply be glad he was happy; that’s all she ever wanted for those she parted well with. She wasn’t much of a selfish creature.
“If you say you are good, then I believe you,” Leliana said, face still carrying a bit of skepticism, but like she told herself, no pressuring. “And congratulations - I always did know fatherhood would suit you well. One of us was meant to become a parent!”
Normalcy and relationships. Two things that didn’t fit her quite well, and she had sometimes regretted that. Her and Logan did make quite a pair, especially the glorious sex dirtying the sheets, but like most good things, it had come to a quick end.
It was mostly true. Even with the gaps where Vel and Amy were concerned. And a lot of missing space over the last year. He just hoped he remembered the important things. "Just kinda reached a point in my life where I can accept the things I done an' kinda... put my life into perspective."
He smirked at her. "Honestly, I barely remember her mom. She got raised by a couple women back east and then came lookin' for me." And there was something about time travel but Jubilee wasn't around to ask about that. He figured it was safest to let that rest, messing with time was just a really bad idea.
Oh, lovely. A chug of her mixed drink was needed, skipping the formality of a straw, and then she gave Logan a ludicrous stare after a lick of her lips. “Logan!” It’s as if she wanted to scold him, but instead she may have just burst into a fit of giggles. “You don’t--of course you don’t.”
Leliana rolled those pretty blue eyes of hers and shook her head. “You reach fatherhood by impregnating someone you barely even remember. The epitome of classiness, aren’t you, hon?”
"What can I say? That was twenty years ago. If I'd known... probably would have found her sooner." Laura had deserved to have him in her life. Especially when considering their dreams. "Ain't easy, but we're tryin'. Least I didn’t knock you up." A beat. “I didn’t, did I?”
“You have no illegitimate children to worry about when it comes to me, no worries!” Leliana chirped, all smiles, and her foot gave his leg a playful nudge, maybe even flirtatiously. “Though we would have had the cutest little rascal, don’t you think? Your complexion, my eyes…”
But alas, her agents were practically her children - she watched and protected them, and it was enough.
“Your hair, I hope.” Logan scratched at the scruff on his chin. “I get a fritz problem sometimes. You’d have to admit that kid would be worse than us when it came to datin’.”
“But I would happily accept their dating failures and experimentations.” Leliana raised her glass for emphasis, and then knocked back the remainder of their drink. “Probably a good thing we didn’t settle down and make a little person of our own. Such a flirty terror to bestow upon the world. A hairy little ginger child!”
Adorable, sort of.
Her nose wrinkled with a smile, and she gave him a poke with her elbow. “I suppose I’ll take my leave, then. As much as I’d like to drink the night with you, I have to get myself home somehow, don’t I?”
Logan actually laughed at the mental image. “Pretty sure I’m beyond settlin’ down at this point.” Oh if only he knew. Actually if he knew he’d be devastated because Vel had sworn up and down she could take dating a mutant but then she hadn’t.
“Want a ride, darlin’?”
“Can’t deny a ride from a gentleman, can I?” Might as well, really - it was a bit cold outside, and Leliana liked to rely on feet for travel as much as she could. It was a better way of acquainting herself with the ins-and-outs of the place, and so much observation could be had while walking down a sidewalk. Drink paid off, she scooted off the bar seat and took him by the elbow.
“Good thing I’m a gentleman, or I’d take that the wrong way.” He grinned, and guided her out to his motorcycle.