Logan had tired of crouching impatiently and finally sat down in a loose, slouched lotus position, his cards resting on one thigh. He scowled at nothing in particular as he scratched at the scruff of his five-o'clock shadow. It was more of a ten o'clock shadow, which was kind of funny seeing as he had showered and shaved practically just before they left the mansion. He suppressed the urge to pop a claw and give himself a quick and dirty dry shave then and there. He was that bored. And edgy, which was unusual for him. It was as if Karr's impatience was rubbing off on him, or something. Maybe his feral senses were tuning in on something he couldn't verbalize as of yet.
Great. Now my freakin' Spidey sense is tingling... while playing Go Fish. Karr would never let me live this down if he ever found out.
This was a far cry from the dead calm he had felt before the Moreau op. He didn't know it then, but later he might realize that the reason his senses felt on edge was because there was another feral in great emotional distress nearby. It was as if he hadn't scented him in any discernible way, but somehow subconsciously sensed him all the same, like a sub-scent, or pheromones, or something else hard to identify that related to the predator instinct, like male lions seem to sense competitive males from far away long before they should be able to smell them coming.
The only good thing about this was that he was wearing the black. Black uniform meant he didn't have to hold back... much. They were dealing with mass terrorists here, ones that had killed before. They'd taken one of their own, even. Only Excalibur was here in an official capacity. As far as Xavier and the other Havenites knew, neither Logan, Warpath nor Cable were here, except maybe as private citizens, as it were. No mercy was needed today, and the Mutant Liberation Front deserved none in Logan's eyes.