wolvverine (wolvverine) wrote in x_2012, @ 2011-01-08 15:20:00 |
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Entry tags: | wild child, wolverine |
900 bottles of beer on the waaaall... *cough*
Who: Wolverine, Wild Child
What: When ferals att... o wait. Two ferals walk into a bar...
When: Saturday, Jan. 8th
Where: a grungy dive in Hell's Kitchen
Warnings: TBD. It's Logan and Gibs, what could possibly happen that'd warrant a warning? Oh, right. >.>
Sometimes a man needed to get away from everything and everyone who knew him, just for a little while. Ever so often, he might find another like himself, a kindred soul, different but equal. Sometimes it was possible to share solitude, even in a crowded room. Which this wasn't. It was early, and the only people in this forgotten hole in the wall in the shadiest corner of Hell's Kitchen were the usual suspects. They were all regulars, except for Logan. He stood out for that reason, but not terribly much, because they'd all seen him here before. He was more of a seasonal, like those truckers who were on the road for the long haul that they only saw every couple of months or so. It was a good thing not to stand out in this place. A man could have a beer or ten in peace in a place like this, most days. The majority of the patrons came here to leave their hectic New York City rat race life behind for a few hours. No one came looking for any trouble, and those that did found more trouble than they reckoned and rarely came back. The weakest of them was still a grizzled tough little thing, and they were united in their sense that this was their safe place, and no one was going to come and mess it up for them.
Logan loved it here. It was out of the way, the rock'n'roll music blaring from the jukebox was loud and gritty, like the patrons, and there wasn't a mutant in sight. One could come here without the local mutant gossip mill alerting the world about it. One could come here to get lost. Logan downed the dregs of his beer, savoring it. Something pricked his nose, and he sniffed the air twice in a row, picking up a scent. He nodded to himself and signaled the barkeep to get him a refill as well as a second beer, and a service of chicken wings, while he was at it. Waiting made Logan peckish, although it wasn't a word he'd ever use.