[Logan wants to stew in his gritty, pissy mood right now but Stiles won't leave or take the hint and that's probably a good thing. Logan smokes his cigar, blowing smoke to the side and breathing in shallow pants that are either from the irritation or the shitty healing factor. Could be both. He leans back in his chair and doesn't look back to Stiles, but is very aware of his presence.
He doesn't speak for a good long period of silence that might hint he's not wanting to speak again at all. That maybe he doesn't want to hear about Claudia, maybe he doesn't care. Doesn't want to care. He's supposed to be keeping his distance from people and yet here he is somehow chatting it up with a kid about his emotionally charged life. He grunts, running his hand down the front of his face.]
[ For the first half of that long silence, Stiles keeps his eyes on Logan. He alternates between feeling like shit for being ignored, feeling like shit over the idea of leaving and being alone, and feeling like shit for expecting Logan to find it in his cold dead heart to talk to him like a human being. Stiles eventually sighs and gives up, focusing on his drink and staring at Logan's limo, trying to muster up the willpower to either clean or leave and find some other couch to crash on, but he was really hoping it'd be okay here. Logan's the only one who really knows about the dementia, so. The night terrors would have been a lot easier to stomach.
Logan says he has a kid, though, and Stiles startles out of staring into the middle distance, looking back at him. He narrows his eyes - this is a fucking minefield. He has no idea what he can say that won't set this prick off again, but he appreciates his effort too much not to try. ]
Can I... get a name? Or an age? Favorite color? Food? Are they a horse girl? A racecar boy? Democrat? Republican?
[ Are they alive - that's what he really wants to ask. Are they here. ]
[He admits a few more details here - bringing this back to Laura and letting Stiles know that she's here just the same. It's weird admitting she's his, but the last thing he wants is another nose punch or the sad look on her face that came from the last time she thought he didn't care about her. Thank God he lucked into a situation that works for him - Frank and Wynonna do the heavy lifting.]
[ Ah, well, that's not exactly a surprise, which is a good thing, because Logan probably wouldn't react well to Stiles getting all expressive and reactionary over him divulging a piece of personal information like that. Stiles nods, setting down his empty beer bottle on the porch and walking towards Logan's car, talking as he goes. He figures putting some elbow grease in might keep him on Logan's good side. ]
Okay. Cool. Laura. Laaaura. Good name. An american staple, really. I've got a friend - his sister's name is Laura. So. Laaaaaaura.
[ Laura. Laura, Laura, Laura. Stiles says Laura enough times that it stops sounding like a real word, which he then repeats a few more times just to test out how bizarre that feeling is, but he quickly glances at Logan, realizes he's talking too much and probably pissing him off, then immediately shuts it down. No more Laura. Laura. Laura, Laura, Laura. Weird word. ]
You seriously didn't give her boyfriend a shovel talk? You are not the kind of dad I assumed you were.
[He says without - meaning to, but he gets annoyed again at Stiles running his mouth. Logan would prefer not to get into the nitty gritty of how he barely knew the kid a week before he got here, but he'd also prefer not to sound like the asshole he tends to be. Took him a long ass while not to ditch the kid, it's still a work in progress. From the porch he watches Stiles, puffing on his cigar and speaking around it.]
She was here before me, she's got an adoptive family. They do the talks.
[ Right, okay. Stiles nods, taking this in, making assumptions in his head about what Logan's relationship with Laura must look like. Maybe she lives with her mom's side of the family back home - maybe Logan's wife is dead, or something, and he never stepped up and took custody. Maybe they're just divorced and doesn't count among the people he misses. It'd make a sad kind of sense. ]
Glad she's got people looking out for her. Glad you've still got a place in her life, too.
[ Stiles finds the hose attached to Logan's house and unravels it, bringing it to the yard, then disappears inside for some supplies - soap, a bucket, a sponge. He's carrying it all back outside when he picks up the conversation again. ]
[So take that into consideration however you want, Stiles. It'd probably fit the obvious narrative that Logan's not used to this, not good at this and honestly didn't want any of this. But he ended up with it anyway, plans thrown aside, and here he is. Making the best of a superbly shitty situation and finding himself once again too loyal for his own good. But also still a prick.]
She'd probably be better off without me. Most people are.
[ Stiles is filling up the bucket, immediately frowning at Logan's most people are. He's not really the kind of guy who lets people dwell in their dumb, self-defeating bullshit like that, and for a second he looks like he's gonna jump down Logan's throat the way he would Scott or Jackson or Isaac. He narrows his eyes and gives Logan a quick once over, and then just - changes his mind. ]
I've barely known you that long and you've already made my life way better. I wouldn't feel half as safe here if it wasn't for you.
[ Logan's not a teenager. If he says people would be better off without him, he's had a long, long lifetime of mistakes to make to get to that conclusion. Stiles soaps up the water and starts cleaning off Logan's car, slapping a sponge to the window while he talks. He'd rather just speak to Logan honestly right now than get on his case for being a sadsack. ]
You've made her life better, too. Like, legitimately, practically better. You gave her food in Rapture and now she has the freedom to come visit you here, away from all the creepy mayhem in town. You might have some lost time to make up for, but that sounds like a pretty beneficial relationship to me.
[Logan just makes a grumbling, low noise in response to that. He's not really one to get to talking about how he feels - how he wants to say, and finally after a beat does in a whispered tone, murmur that he 'owes her a little' for something. Notably for dying on her the first time - he's got to keep kicking and keep his eye on her, regardless of how he still fights with the concept that she's better off without him.]
Funny, you've just been a pain in my ass.
[Not said with truthful intent - he still owes Stiles too, it seems, for the whole slug diagnosis. And for not asking all the questions he could (beyond the ones he has,) that must be boiling up in his head. Logan's not been all that forthcoming with details about the idiosyncrasies of his life. Like how he's wiping his hand clean on his shirt and below the blood there's not a mark. Again.]
[ Stiles isn't exactly surprised to hear that Logan feels like he owes this girl - not knowing she exists for her entire life does seem like a pretty deep hole to climb out of - and he's not surprised to be called a pain in the ass, either. He's not gonna take it, though - he huffs, hand on his hip, looking at Logan like he's gonna give him a second chance here to say something better. ]
Brave of you to talk shit when I'm armed.
[ He waggles the wet sponge at Logan, just for effect. Tread lightly. ]
[He's almost ready to let Stiles try to throw the stupid sponge just to prove his point, but he relents nonetheless. Slumping a bit lower into his seat he keeps on nursing his cigar, wishing he brought a cold beer out here because there's an ache brewing in his shoulder. He pats his pocket for his wallet, peeking into it as he speaks.]
[ That wasn't good enough, and honestly, the way Stiles squeezes the sponge in his hand makes it pretty clear that the only reason he doesn't throw this thing in Logan's face is because the whim doesn't strike him. He narrows his eyes and turns back to the car, slapping the sponge against the window. ]
Yeah, okay. Better not forget my money, old man.
[ He pointedly avoids the left, washing in clockwork circles and moving to the right, around to the front of the limo and then down the other side. There's some complaining, largely about how Stiles doesn't know how he got roped into doing physical labor for someone who's just gonna sit there and smoke and ruin his health, but he goes quiet when the sponge dips and catches on a frayed piece of metal near the back wheel. Stiles frowns - he knows what that is, these are buckshot holes, someone had it out for this car - but after darting his tongue between his lips and pretending not to notice, Stiles moves on.
But he did notice. He's probably not as subtle as he wants to be when he breaches conversation again. ]
So, uh - what'd you do back home, again? You're a driver?
[If Logan picks up on anything being amiss, he doesn't show it. He's just adjusting how he's slumped again, putting one of his legs up on an upturned milk crate on the porch that is now his footrest. Driver is one way to explain some of the shit he's done back home - but it isn't a lie, not by any means. It's just not his life's ambition, either.]
Yeah. Bachelorettes, drunk frat assholes, you name it.
[They pay, he drives, the money needed to come in some way.]
Sounds like your kind of crowd. Bet this backseat has a lot of stories to tell about all the mischief you've gotten up to. The bodyshots, the cocaine. The unprotected "tips".
[ Stiles athletic-ass-slaps the top of the car, proudly nodding his head. He finishes covering the limo in suds, and once that's done, he looks... kind of excited, actually. He's a child, and throwing the bucket of water over the car to rinse it down is just kind of-- something he's looking forward to doing? Shut up, it's fun. ]
Okay, uh.
[ He's standing in front of the car, holding the bucket by its handle. He looks at Logan like he knows this isn't gonna go anywhere, but. ]
You rely too much on me to facilitate your bullshit.
[Jokes, count downs, weird pressing questions that Logan's still king of bristled over. But he's letting the driver related hazing go and butting out his cigar in a lightly overflowing ash tray next to him before cocking his head to the side. This kid really does need to make other friends. Get laid too, probably.]
[ Wait, shit! He's actually counting him down? That three-two-one comes so fast and so suddenly that Stiles has to scramble to follow through with the knocking himself out part. He slaps his hands to the bottom of the bucket and just throws the water out, a heavy tidal wave splashing against the windshield. It doesn't rinse the car off half as much as it waters Logan's lawn and drizzle the porch he's sitting on, but Stiles is still happy, throwing his arms above his head with a very loud: ]
Woooooo!
[ Great. Done. He's gotta do it again, though. Stiles has this half-chuckling swagger as he starts filling the bucket up with water from the hose, just... generally too proud of himself for whatever this was. He could really just spray the car down with the hose, but. Nope. He sits in the damp grass and waits for the bucket to fill up again. ]
Okay, so - tell me some wild driver stories? How many serial killers have you picked up? You been mugged or anything?
[Just a lot of stupid parties, flashing brides to be and prom queens. Holding umbrellas up over grieving widows and escorting Texan bigshots across town. Up until Gabriella started tracking him down, it was a shitty but effective way of making a living while living in seclusion. Whoever the fuck started the rumor that Wolverine was now a glorified taxi cab driver kinda fucked up his whole thing. So did Transigen.]
Couple of cholos tried to steal my hub caps. That's about it.
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deerington | inbox for James "Logan" Howlett
no subject
He doesn't speak for a good long period of silence that might hint he's not wanting to speak again at all. That maybe he doesn't want to hear about Claudia, maybe he doesn't care. Doesn't want to care. He's supposed to be keeping his distance from people and yet here he is somehow chatting it up with a kid about his emotionally charged life. He grunts, running his hand down the front of his face.]
I have a kid. That's all.
no subject
Logan says he has a kid, though, and Stiles startles out of staring into the middle distance, looking back at him. He narrows his eyes - this is a fucking minefield. He has no idea what he can say that won't set this prick off again, but he appreciates his effort too much not to try. ]
Can I... get a name? Or an age? Favorite color? Food? Are they a horse girl? A racecar boy? Democrat? Republican?
[ Are they alive - that's what he really wants to ask. Are they here. ]
no subject
[He admits a few more details here - bringing this back to Laura and letting Stiles know that she's here just the same. It's weird admitting she's his, but the last thing he wants is another nose punch or the sad look on her face that came from the last time she thought he didn't care about her. Thank God he lucked into a situation that works for him - Frank and Wynonna do the heavy lifting.]
Laura.
no subject
Okay. Cool. Laura. Laaaura. Good name. An american staple, really. I've got a friend - his sister's name is Laura. So. Laaaaaaura.
[ Laura. Laura, Laura, Laura. Stiles says Laura enough times that it stops sounding like a real word, which he then repeats a few more times just to test out how bizarre that feeling is, but he quickly glances at Logan, realizes he's talking too much and probably pissing him off, then immediately shuts it down. No more Laura. Laura. Laura, Laura, Laura. Weird word. ]
You seriously didn't give her boyfriend a shovel talk? You are not the kind of dad I assumed you were.
no subject
[He says without - meaning to, but he gets annoyed again at Stiles running his mouth. Logan would prefer not to get into the nitty gritty of how he barely knew the kid a week before he got here, but he'd also prefer not to sound like the asshole he tends to be. Took him a long ass while not to ditch the kid, it's still a work in progress. From the porch he watches Stiles, puffing on his cigar and speaking around it.]
She was here before me, she's got an adoptive family. They do the talks.
no subject
Glad she's got people looking out for her. Glad you've still got a place in her life, too.
[ Stiles finds the hose attached to Logan's house and unravels it, bringing it to the yard, then disappears inside for some supplies - soap, a bucket, a sponge. He's carrying it all back outside when he picks up the conversation again. ]
Do you, uh - live together back home?
no subject
[So take that into consideration however you want, Stiles. It'd probably fit the obvious narrative that Logan's not used to this, not good at this and honestly didn't want any of this. But he ended up with it anyway, plans thrown aside, and here he is. Making the best of a superbly shitty situation and finding himself once again too loyal for his own good. But also still a prick.]
She'd probably be better off without me. Most people are.
no subject
I've barely known you that long and you've already made my life way better. I wouldn't feel half as safe here if it wasn't for you.
[ Logan's not a teenager. If he says people would be better off without him, he's had a long, long lifetime of mistakes to make to get to that conclusion. Stiles soaps up the water and starts cleaning off Logan's car, slapping a sponge to the window while he talks. He'd rather just speak to Logan honestly right now than get on his case for being a sadsack. ]
You've made her life better, too. Like, legitimately, practically better. You gave her food in Rapture and now she has the freedom to come visit you here, away from all the creepy mayhem in town. You might have some lost time to make up for, but that sounds like a pretty beneficial relationship to me.
no subject
Funny, you've just been a pain in my ass.
[Not said with truthful intent - he still owes Stiles too, it seems, for the whole slug diagnosis. And for not asking all the questions he could (beyond the ones he has,) that must be boiling up in his head. Logan's not been all that forthcoming with details about the idiosyncrasies of his life. Like how he's wiping his hand clean on his shirt and below the blood there's not a mark. Again.]
no subject
Brave of you to talk shit when I'm armed.
[ He waggles the wet sponge at Logan, just for effect. Tread lightly. ]
no subject
[He's almost ready to let Stiles try to throw the stupid sponge just to prove his point, but he relents nonetheless. Slumping a bit lower into his seat he keeps on nursing his cigar, wishing he brought a cold beer out here because there's an ache brewing in his shoulder. He pats his pocket for his wallet, peeking into it as he speaks.]
You missed a spot to the left, by the way.
no subject
Yeah, okay. Better not forget my money, old man.
[ He pointedly avoids the left, washing in clockwork circles and moving to the right, around to the front of the limo and then down the other side. There's some complaining, largely about how Stiles doesn't know how he got roped into doing physical labor for someone who's just gonna sit there and smoke and ruin his health, but he goes quiet when the sponge dips and catches on a frayed piece of metal near the back wheel. Stiles frowns - he knows what that is, these are buckshot holes, someone had it out for this car - but after darting his tongue between his lips and pretending not to notice, Stiles moves on.
But he did notice. He's probably not as subtle as he wants to be when he breaches conversation again. ]
So, uh - what'd you do back home, again? You're a driver?
no subject
Yeah. Bachelorettes, drunk frat assholes, you name it.
[They pay, he drives, the money needed to come in some way.]
Drove around in El Paso.
no subject
[ Stiles athletic-ass-slaps the top of the car, proudly nodding his head. He finishes covering the limo in suds, and once that's done, he looks... kind of excited, actually. He's a child, and throwing the bucket of water over the car to rinse it down is just kind of-- something he's looking forward to doing? Shut up, it's fun. ]
Okay, uh.
[ He's standing in front of the car, holding the bucket by its handle. He looks at Logan like he knows this isn't gonna go anywhere, but. ]
Count me down? Just a "three, two, one, go".
no subject
[Jokes, count downs, weird pressing questions that Logan's still king of bristled over. But he's letting the driver related hazing go and butting out his cigar in a lightly overflowing ash tray next to him before cocking his head to the side. This kid really does need to make other friends. Get laid too, probably.]
Three-two-one. Knock yourself out.
no subject
Woooooo!
[ Great. Done. He's gotta do it again, though. Stiles has this half-chuckling swagger as he starts filling the bucket up with water from the hose, just... generally too proud of himself for whatever this was. He could really just spray the car down with the hose, but. Nope. He sits in the damp grass and waits for the bucket to fill up again. ]
Okay, so - tell me some wild driver stories? How many serial killers have you picked up? You been mugged or anything?
no subject
[Just a lot of stupid parties, flashing brides to be and prom queens. Holding umbrellas up over grieving widows and escorting Texan bigshots across town. Up until Gabriella started tracking him down, it was a shitty but effective way of making a living while living in seclusion. Whoever the fuck started the rumor that Wolverine was now a glorified taxi cab driver kinda fucked up his whole thing. So did Transigen.]
Couple of cholos tried to steal my hub caps. That's about it.