Logan knew he was going to get the call from his conversations with James, and he'd been a soldier long enough to know better than to ask for details. He was far from being okay with his own recent murderous behavior, and he was never going to be okay with the death of innocents, but if the certain faint odor of decay of some sort he was smelling on mutants who had taken the Cure was any indication, there was almost no one involved in running a Cure facility that Logan would consider innocent. That would not be a concern once he knew what was up. In fact, he'd probably be grateful that he was keeping whatever blood needed shedding from some kid's conscience by taking it upon himself. That had to be one for the plus column, he figured.
Still, he was as grim as his uniform when he joined the others in the Humvee. He could read between lines, and was dressed accordingly. The stark black uniform with charcoal insets said that he knew what was up, even if he lacked the details of the operation itself. He had enough trust in James to follow him without hesitation, and they had a sort of unspoken agreement to watch each other and, if needed, drag each other back kicking and screaming if straying too far off the reservation looked like a more permanent arrangement than not.