Who: Logan Howlett / Wolverine, Steve Rogers / Captain America(616), and Carol Danvers / Captain Marvel What: Logan and Steve go out for a drink, Logan invites Carol. Where: George's Tavern When: Not long after Logan's arrival. Rating: PG-13, likely for language. Status: In Progress Notes:
Storybrooke. Logan would have liked to have said that being here felt impossible, but that was hardly the case. He'd been here before, and it hadn't even really felt impossible then. Hell, what did feel impossible these days, when you lived a life like his?
Day in and day out everything seemed to be filled with some sort of calamity. Every time something insane seemed to go wrong, it seemed to be worse than before. Even leaving Storybrooke, the first time, had felt insane. Years of his life passed, years he spent convincing himself whatever had gone on had all been in his head. After all, the fragments and barely connected memories weren't atypical. Then he'd been back again, and then gone once more.
Now he was back, his hands jammed into the pocket of his jacket, and his boots crushed down against the concrete. He was, once again, struggling to come to grips with being tossed suddenly into a new reality. Still, Logan had to hand it to this particular time. It sure beat being tossed around trying to save the future, or right one of Summer's decisions. At least this time he actually had people who seemed to know him right off the bat.
He would have been lying if he'd said he wasn't excited about it. Carol, of course, had him beyond happy. She remembered him, and his absence didn't really seem to have effected things. It didn't hurt that she wasn't dead either, but he honestly wasn't as concerned with that -- which was a lot more than he could say about the other he was on his way to visit.
Logan shook his head for a moment, grunting slightly at the air. Everything smelled so..fresh here. It was as if all the grime of the world he knew had been stripped away. People seemed happy here even, not that it was much of a surprise in some cases. It still took more adjusting than he was used to...and then the place had gone right ahead and dropped the icing on the cake for him.
And that icing was Captain Steve Rogers.
Another shake of his head threw his feet back into motion. The man was dead. It was a fact Logan had spent a large amount of time doing his best to reconcile. It was something that had driven his claws nine inches deep into buildings, gotten probably more than one person punched harder than they should have been, and generally turned Logan into something barely above a rage filled man. Maybe it was good that he'd been forced to set all that aside, maybe it was good that he'd been too busy to be too angry, even if he'd arguably, reluctantly, needed the guy.
"...Can't even say Fuck this place.." Logan grumbled, mostly to himself. He wanted to be mad about it, because it felt easier. He didn't want to have to think about how he'd feel if this turned out to be just another Steve that wasn't the man he knew. He didn't want to think about if he smelled off, or even dare let himself get too excited that this might have actual been his friend from so many lifetimes ago.
It had to be thought about though, even as Logan's nose began twitching at the air, his destination now within sight. It wasn't even a reasonable time to get curious with that sniffer of his but, Logan figured, maybe he could just catch a disarming waft from somewhere? Maybe he'd get lucky and be spared the disappointment when he could just walk away? Maybe he could just...
'..If this is another one of those times..' Logan silently threatened whatever entities might have been listening as he lifted a weathered hand to bully his way in through the door in a cloud of gruff and standoffishness. He let his eyes, ears, and nose dip into overdrive, scanning the room for any would be signs of familiar hairlines, backs of heads, or comforting outlines. Maybe it was a dangerous time to be banking on hope but, if you couldn't do it when you crash landed in a place where fairytales characters were actually real and hot chocolate was the national drink, when could you?