Who: Logan and open at the end if anyone wants to tempt fate What: He tries to cope with his stupidity Where: His room and a bar in the bad part of Lawrence When: Shortly after Svetlana and Anatoly leave the park
Logan watched as Anatoly and Svetlana walked off. He stood there for a while longer, puffing on his cigar and trying to calm down. It didn’t work as well as he’d like. Stubbing the cigar out on the ruins of the chess table, he headed for the complex. He chose the stairs over the elevator and slowly went up to his room. He paused and glanced at the door to Svetlana...and Anatoly’s room and his eyes narrowed.
He made himself go into his room and shut the door, locking it. His fists clenched and without so much as his trademark animalistic snarls, he began trashing his room. He used his claws to slice the mattress up, his fists to break the mirrors. It went on for several minutes until there was little left to trash without clawing through walls.
Still feeling agitated, he grabbed his coat and left his room, not really caring if the door was locked or not. Nothing of value was kept in there anyway aside from his X-Men uniform.
Once he was out on the streets, he made a beeline for where he parked his motorcycle he had taken the time to fix up and restore with his limited funds. He kicked it to life and roared down the streets to the shadier parts of town. He was craving violence to calm him down. Which did nothing to keep Svetlana’s demanding voice out of his head asking if he had ever bothered to solve issues without violence.
Parking the two wheeled vehicle, he got off and headed into the seediest bar he had found in Lawrence. He sat down at the bar and ordered the strongest drink the bartender could make. He really wished he could get drunk right now. As the glass was placed in front of him, he picked it up and drained it in one gulp and promptly ordered another.
As he sipped on his second drink, his eyes scanned the bar in the mirror. So many shady deals going on in plain sight. At least his plain sight. A few more drinks and he would leave. Unless a fool tried to start something.
As if on cue, a fool walked up and tried to intimidate Logan into giving up his drink, wallet, and seat. He downed the rest of his drink before spinning quickly and slamming it into the idiot’s head. The fool dropped like a ton of bricks and the sounds of guns of various calibers and types being cocked filled his ears with switchblades clicking open. He gave a small smirk. Finally. People he could beat to a pulp and not have an angry Russian yelling at him over.
He kept his claws retracted and proceeded to lay waste to the criminal element in the bar. And when the men tried to scramble to get away? Logan dragged them back in, snarling and punching everyone he could who had tried to fight him or shoot him. And while it wasn’t quelling the main source of his rage, it was at least abating it and he would take what he could get.
Nearly an hour later, Logan walked out of the bar, his jacket torn and riddled with holes, blood staining his jeans and shirt but a faint smile was on his face. He felt better. A little. Getting on his bike, he started to head back to the complex. Oh he knew he had a room to fix up and what not, but still, he was feeling better. And perhaps in a few weeks when Svetlana had calmed down enough to not kill him with a look he could talk to her. Apologize. Something he’d never done before but was willing to do for Svetlana. And perhaps try to explain to her that he was at times, a great many times, more animal than man and he didn’t know how to change that.
It would be a place to start at in the very least.