[He says with a waving gesture, while sitting up himself. His joints are stiff despite the rest, and he massages his shoulder once sitting up properly. The dresser has a few items in it, but most of his shirts hang in the closet. White button downs, some plaid next to blazers. Other items like the tank tops are in the drawers, few and far between. He lives like a bachelor, so there's not a lot present.]
I can - I'll go clean up.
[He says with a nod toward the ensuite, which he pitches himself to his feet to head toward and give her some time to change. He'll just wash his face or something to pass a few minutes, leaving the door ajar.]
[ There's a playful squint of her eyes when she catches the door not fully shut but she trusts him enough as she sits there on the bed, looking over the blood and dirt that stains the pretty green and gold. Colours that she has no idea the significance of to others they know, yet somehow just seems... right on her; she's going to have to hope she can wash this since it's only the one she has.
While Logan cleans himself up, Jean looks through the various things he has that she can wear until she gets back to her place. It's typical Logan wear but, honestly, will do in a pinch. Not like she's dressing to impress or anything. So she peels the green and gold off her and slips into one of the tank tops, throwing on a plaid button down which she only does up halfway. Pants are... a problem. Sort of. Not too bad but she helps herself to a pair of jeans and tries to tighten it around the waist the best she can. It's not gigantic? But no slim fit either. Still, not like she's going to object to a little room in the pant legs and with her costume dropped down to the bed, she rubs at the back of her neck then, already trying to work out how to clean this costume of hers. ]
[Logan makes a casual remark as he returns to the room after giving enough time for her to find some things to wear, letting his gaze trickle over the way she's cinching denim to her hips. He'd much prefer her all long legs and loose fitting shirt, but beggars can't be choosers. He heads toward the same chest of drawers to paw through them for a cleaner shirt, swapping what he has on for it casually - shrugging it on over a tanktop he doesn't change. Because he'll just rather keep those scars hidden for now, the ones that mar his back like a battlefield.]
I'll drive you home.... whenever you want. No rush.
[ The roll of her eyes is a playful one at his commentary over her current choice in clothing and for a minute, it feels like they're back home. Funny to think how neither of them are going to go back and see that... at least from what she can tell. That's when she finds herself looking over to him as he shrugs the shirt on over his shoulders. She doesn't see the marks he wears, doesn't even know about them really. But she can tell... how tired he is, both physically and emotionally and she can't help but want to reach out to him.
So she does. Fingers gently walking across a shoulder blade as she comes up behind him, a smile so carefully on her lips as she moves to stand in front of him and gently cradles his face within her hands. She stares to him, eyes searching his own. Not with the intent to slip into his mind and see the things that he keeps so tightly held against his chest. But to simply see him, right here in front of her, as the man he's become mixed with the man she still knows exists within him.
And despite the heavy beating of her heart, she kisses him. Soft and slow, a tentative means to taste his heart on his lips. Letting it linger for only a moment before she takes a breath for herself and smiles a little sheepishly against his lips, voice soft. ]
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deerington | inbox for James "Logan" Howlett
no subject
[He says with a waving gesture, while sitting up himself. His joints are stiff despite the rest, and he massages his shoulder once sitting up properly. The dresser has a few items in it, but most of his shirts hang in the closet. White button downs, some plaid next to blazers. Other items like the tank tops are in the drawers, few and far between. He lives like a bachelor, so there's not a lot present.]
I can - I'll go clean up.
[He says with a nod toward the ensuite, which he pitches himself to his feet to head toward and give her some time to change. He'll just wash his face or something to pass a few minutes, leaving the door ajar.]
no subject
While Logan cleans himself up, Jean looks through the various things he has that she can wear until she gets back to her place. It's typical Logan wear but, honestly, will do in a pinch. Not like she's dressing to impress or anything. So she peels the green and gold off her and slips into one of the tank tops, throwing on a plaid button down which she only does up halfway. Pants are... a problem. Sort of. Not too bad but she helps herself to a pair of jeans and tries to tighten it around the waist the best she can. It's not gigantic? But no slim fit either. Still, not like she's going to object to a little room in the pant legs and with her costume dropped down to the bed, she rubs at the back of her neck then, already trying to work out how to clean this costume of hers. ]
no subject
[Logan makes a casual remark as he returns to the room after giving enough time for her to find some things to wear, letting his gaze trickle over the way she's cinching denim to her hips. He'd much prefer her all long legs and loose fitting shirt, but beggars can't be choosers. He heads toward the same chest of drawers to paw through them for a cleaner shirt, swapping what he has on for it casually - shrugging it on over a tanktop he doesn't change. Because he'll just rather keep those scars hidden for now, the ones that mar his back like a battlefield.]
I'll drive you home.... whenever you want. No rush.
no subject
So she does. Fingers gently walking across a shoulder blade as she comes up behind him, a smile so carefully on her lips as she moves to stand in front of him and gently cradles his face within her hands. She stares to him, eyes searching his own. Not with the intent to slip into his mind and see the things that he keeps so tightly held against his chest. But to simply see him, right here in front of her, as the man he's become mixed with the man she still knows exists within him.
And despite the heavy beating of her heart, she kisses him. Soft and slow, a tentative means to taste his heart on his lips. Letting it linger for only a moment before she takes a breath for herself and smiles a little sheepishly against his lips, voice soft. ]
Sorry for ruining your walls.