Title: The Glory Of Manticore
Author: Restive Nature
Rating: up to NC-17
Disclaimer- I in no way, shape or form own the characters of Dark Angel or X-Men or anything related to them. I simply like to play with them for a short while.
Summary: Max is once again on the run. But this time a safe haven awaits her in the form of Professor Xavier’s School for Gifted Children.
Pairing: M/L
Chapter Twenty
Dinner went well. There had developed a sort of easy camaraderie with the easing of the tensions between Max and Jean. That had, in turn, allowed Scott and Logan to relax a little as well. Though the two men would never be close friends, there seemed to be some sort of mutual respect making itself known in subtle oneupmanship and verbal taunts that had less sting than prior days.
Conversation flowed easily as Jean introduced different topics and they compared their view points on the city they were in, taking in each other's unique viewpoints. None aside from Logan had much chance to travel through Seattle and eagerly sought Max's views on how the cities were alike and different at the same time. When Max revealed to the males that she had lived in Los Angeles when she was younger, after the pulse, talk included that as well.
It was at that point that Jean found out about Max's knowledge of known, greater and lesser, artworks.
While not as versed as Max, they found another point of common ground as they referenced their favorite art works and Max told them about some of the prizes that Logan Cale kept as investments and some that he simply liked the look of.
Eventually, Scott and Jean had to return to the hotel to change for their evening at the theater. Logan had held his hand out to Max to help her up from her chair and as they trailed after the couple, shot her an amused glance.
“So, how're you holding up?” he asked, sounding slightly off. Max grinned up at him.
“Aside from feeling stuffed from that meal,” she decided. “I'm good.”
“Yeah, it was good,” he nodded. “Did'ja feel like heading back to the hotel?” he wondered. Max glanced up at the discreetly placed clock behind a potted fern that had grown quite rapaciously and then frowned.
“The night's still young,” she shrugged. “Normally about this time, I'd be heading out with my roommate and friends to hang for a while.”
“Well, we could do that,' Logan was quick to suggest and Max again had the sensation that he was appraising her.
“Sure,” she agreed with a small smile. She herself didn't want the evening to end. If there was one thing she hated, it was sitting around on her ass, with time on her hands. “Was there somewhere specific you wanted to go? Or...”
“Why don't we just wander until we see someplace we like,” Logan suggested. Max nodded her agreement and after retrieving her coat from the coat girl, they exited the restaurant to see Scott and Jean waiting at a cab.
“You coming?” Scott asked lightly. They both shook their heads.
“We're gonna wander around a while,” Logan informed them. “We'll probably see you tomorrow.”
“We're still on for MoMA, right?” Jean directed towards Max. The girl nodded. The couple had expanded on the idea of the field trip to the museum of modern art, or one of the science museums, but since the discussion of art, both Jean and Max had a hankering to take in the artworks that were being featured. After all, a simple call to the science museum would set up a group tour or trip. “All right,” she smiled benignly, “have fun,” she murmured and then climbed into the cab. Scott added is own farewells and then they were gone.
“So?” Logan looked down at Max, seeming a little nervous. It was as if he was unsure what to do with himself and after a moment jammed his hands into his pockets. Max, seeing his indecision made the simple expedient decision of starting to walk in the direction they were already facing. Logan caught up half a step later.
“So you were saying that you've been around the country for quite a while,” Max began politely as they walked. “Traveling, doing your thing and the like?” she offered it as a question and Logan agreed.
“I've been around a while,” he agreed calmly. “And traveling keeps you occupied. You ever do a lot of it? Aside from coming over from Seattle?”
“Mmm, not really, I guess,” Max sighed, thinking that perhaps their travels, while both having them, had served very separate purposes. Logan to find something and for her to escape. “I was born in Wyoming,” she offered cautiously. “And when I bugged out, I hung around the Midwest for a while. But something about California just called to me.”
“Sunshine, water, beaches, hmm, wonder what it could'a been?” Logan teased.
“Yeah, through all the smog the city still produces, and toxic spills with garbage and refuse everywhere you'd walk because sanitation slowdowns and strikes got to be an every day part of life,” Max offered tartly and then chuckled. “But, it was the same everywhere, wasn't it?”
Logan nodded, thinking back to the days before the Pulse. It hadn't been much different for him. Traveling from place to place. Price of gas went up astronomically, but since he'd had his truck with the camper top, he'd had his own lodgings. And cage fighting, or gambling to earn money, had always occurred. Every once in a while, he'd feel bad about taking advantage of some desperate man, trying to increase the little they'd had to be able to afford the things that had mattered. He tried his best to stay away from people like that immediately after the pulse and in turn, had spent a lot of time defending the things that were his.
“It was a real bad time, wasn't it?” he finally sighed. They paused at the corner of the street to wait for a break in the evening traffic, which came soon enough. “So you were how old? When the pulse hit, I mean?”
Max arched a smile up at him, waiting to answer after they'd crossed the street. “I was old enough to understand what was going on and young enough that it made disappearing easy.”
“What'd you need to disappear from, if you don't mind...” she waved away his concern in the rest of the question.
“I was in a bad situation in a foster home,” she offered quietly. “When we lost power, it was just another excuse for the fists to start flying. So I took off.”
Logan nearly stumbled at that, taken aback. He could hear the truth in her words, very clearly, but at the same time, there was something deeper there. He wondered if he should... but how did someone ask, essentially still strangers, but maybe wanting more... He frowned and glanced away, ahead of where they were at. And on the streets, was not exactly the right place for a conversation like that. But before he could say anything, Max was talking again.
“I always regretted that I left Lucy behind,” she murmured, but then smiled tightly up at him. “But if I let regrets weigh me down, I'd never get anywhere, huh?”
He smiled gently down at her, in complete agreement. “No use wasting time like that, is there?”
“No,” she murmured again. But then her voice was a little stronger. “So, in all your traveling around, was there anything that you had a really great time doing? I mean, as soon as I hit Seattle, I went up on the Space Needle.”
“That thing still open?” Logan was surprised. “Last time I was in the area, I'd heard it was pretty condemned.”
“Not open to the general populace, per se,” Max chuckled and Logan shook his head.
“How was the view?” popped out of his mouth and Max laughed again.
“Pretty amazing,” she mulled over it a little. “But then, I wasn't up there for the view, really. Just that I like high up places.”
“Really,” Logan grimaced. He'd never been a big fan of being up in the air. After all, if mankind, or mutant kind even, were meant to fly, they'd grow wings, right? “We were up on the Statue of Liberty, while ago. Wasn't the most pleasant experience,” he sighed and then chuckled under his breath. That was certainly an understatement.
“Not for everyone, I guess,” Max shrugged and then something across the street seemed to catch her eye. “Hey, you up for a game of pool?” She paused in her step and Logan followed suit. He could see that they'd crossed into some middle of the road area of New York, where the common working man was likely to go to blow off steam. It felt a lot more natural to him than what Scott and Jean had chosen and he indulged in a strange thing for him, a happy grin.
“You're on darlin',” he agreed and they stepped out into the quieter street, heading for the blue neon glow of a bar named Shorty's.
The reaction of the patrons in the bar as they stepped into it, was the same as the world over. Everyone turned to scope out the newcomers and interested faded quickly as they went back to their alcohol and conversations. Logan could hear the clack of balls from a back room, as well as the muted sounds of a television playing on low. The smoke wasn't as thick as some places he'd frequented. He led Max to the bar and when the bartender turned to them, he pulled some cash from his pocket.
“Beer, Labatt's if you've got it,” he ordered and turned to his companion. “Would you like something?” he asked politely and she smirked up at him.
“Beer's fine,” she nodded and he scowled. The bartender had already turned away to start retrieving the order. But as Logan looked over her calm countenance he suddenly grinned and turned.
“Make that a pitcher and two glasses bub,” he demanded affably. The bartender simply replace the two bottles in his cold case and turned to retrieve a chilled pitcher from his freezer. The process of filling the pitcher was halted as he glanced up at Logan.
“No Labatt's,” he offered. “Molsen's do?”
“Even better,” Logan ginned at hearing that his favored beer was on tap. He'd have to remember that.
“You really are Canadian, huh?” Max teased.
“Born and bred,” he smirked right back. “And after seeing a lot of the crap you Americans put yourselves through, can ya blame a guy for being proud of his heritage?” There was noting certain in his past that put him as Canadian. If he'd had an accent, he'd certainly lost it in his years of traveling, or perhaps even before that, in the time of his life that was lost to him. It was more just a gut feeling that he'd had. Always returning to the snowy peaks of the Rockies and feeling, not quite a peace, but the closest he'd come.
“Hey,” Max held her hands out in a peaceful gesture. “Home is what it is. You either love it or you move on.”
“Right on sister,” one semi-drunken patron called out and before they could comment, had turned back to his conversation with his buddies. He looked to be a veteran and after watching him a moment and listening as the group talked about current government efforts in foreign soil, shrugged at one another in the same moment. They had a chuckle over that and then Logan paid for their pitcher. The bartender slid two glasses over the bar and Max retrieved those while Logan grabbed the beer.
“Lead the way, darlin',” Logan offered.
They found themselves a table at the back, close enough to the pool tables. They were both occupied and after a short conversation, Logan plunked a couple quarters on one, the age old sign, requesting the next use of the table. There was a couple soft laughs and then he returned and took his seat across from Max. She had already poured out for them and he took a long sip before settling the glass.
“They're in the middle of their weekly rematch,” he explained, gesturing at the group of four that he'd just chatted with. “They'll be done in a little bit, if you don't mind waiting?”
“I'm good,” Max siled, relaxing a little more with the more familiar atmosphere. “I like pool, but I'm even more kick ass on the foosball table.”
“Which one is that?” Logan asked, quirking his eyebrows together for a moment.
“The little soccer guys,” Max offered and he nodded quickly.
“Right, right,” he murmured. “You play a lot?”
“Several times a week,” she told him, playing with her own glass. “When I'm chillin' with my friends.”
“Yeah, you guys hang out a lot?” Logan recalled from previous conversations. “Place like this?” he wondered aloud. The door opened and just like the rest of the crowd, the pair glanced up to see who had come in. To Logan, it looked like it was just some young blond kid with a leather jacket and too much attitude. He heard a small gasp from Max and wondering, turned back in his seat. “You okay?” he asked. She seemed fine and after the most infinitesimal moment, gave him a reassuring grin.
“Just had a gust of cold air down my back,” she explained. Logan eyed her suspiciously. He hadn't noticed anything like that, but perhaps the layout of the place had caused it to bypass him, but still, they were a good distance from the door. Max, as if seeming to realize that, glanced up and noticed that she was right underneath a heating duct vent. The system had just come on.
“Sorry,” he apologized gruffly. “We can change seats if you want. Cold don't bother me much.”
“Thanks, I'm fine,” she shook her head. “First blast was just chilly. It's warming up now.”
“All right.”
“But anyway, no, the bar we hang at in Seattle isn't like this,” she picked up their thread of conversation from before. “It's more geared toward the bike crowd.”
“Oh yeah?” Logan's interest perked up and Max giggled.
“Not that kinda bike,” she retracted. “Messenger bike,” she explained. “There're several of the services in Settle and we all kind of have dickish bosses. So we get together and de-stress. Mick has a nice set up. He put up these screens and had a blast showin' off some of his old dirt bike races from back in the day. And I don't know, I guess people thought that he was majorly into it, so some people started sending him other races, especially the crashes. And there's foosball and pool, like I said. Beer is cheap, always good music and entertainment and people in the same boat, I'm in. Trying to make a livin' off crappy wages and annoying bosses.”
“Sounds like a good place,” Logan nodded.
“What about you?” Max then turned the conversation around. “I have to say, this seems more your cup of tea than...”
“Yeah,” Logan let out a bark of laughter. “Whoever said you've seen one, you've seen 'em all was right about the bars I hit.”
“Yeah, I suppose,” Max agreed, her eyes twinkling.
“Although,” Logan mused as he glanced around. “I tend to find the places where people don't mind lettin' off a little steam.”
“Ah, the drink themselves into oblivion, roughhouse at a moment's notice, type of crowd?” Max observed astutely. Logan eyed her and then shrugged. No use in his hiding that part of himself, as it was an awfully large part. Not that he could really get drunk. With his mutant healing abilities, he metabolized the alcohol in beer too quickly in his system. If he could get away with it, he'd drink something much harder, but bartenders were always wary of the heavy hitters. They were often the big money troublemakers.
“Or just go straight into it and find a place that does cage matches,” he found himself telling her and it wasn't until her eyes lit up just a tiny bit that he realized that he'd been looking for just that kind of reaction from her. Not the looking down her nose at him for indulging in the more... base side of his nature. But Max seemed to him, someone who appreciated a man who was a man. Or at least one who owned his passions.
“Haven't come across too many of those,” Max mused. “I hear they do some serious bank on a good night.”
“Actual arenas, yeah,” Logan agreed. “Don't get too involved with those, since I'd rather roll through than stick around.”
“Draw too much attention?” she asked softly and he nodded. He saw the understanding in her eyes and was startled by it. “Yeah,” she muttered, “I was never the sticking around in one place for too long kind either.”
“So,” Logan began and tried to moisten his throat, “what made you decide to stick around Seattle? For the time that you did?”
Max shrugged and was silent for a long moment and Logan was wondering if he'd asked the wrong question. But then she answered, quietly.
“Got tired of wandering,” she spoke softly, gently. “I wasn't specifically looking for it in Seattle, but I found some good friends. And the world today...”
“You need some, at least some of the time, right?” he added and was pleased when that soft, easy smile returned to her face. It always made her seem, younger, maybe more vulnerable when she looked like that. Funny, but he hadn't really realized until then, just how, not old, but knowing, she had looked. Like him, like she had maybe seen too much. He wondered again, if she were some kind of mutant that Chuck was keepin' quiet about, not aging for some reason. Whether from a healing mutation or something else. He wondered again how he could ask a question like this. The bar might seem Veteran friendly, but he was pretty sure that like most places in America it was anti-mutant.
“So,” he mused. “Have you been able to talk to your friends? Aside from that Cale guy, I mean.” She shook her head quickly and glanced away.
“No,” she muttered shortly. “The situation was too... hot. So, no.”
“Huh,” he sighed. “You miss 'em, right?” He wasn't trying to be astute, but it made sense to him. After she'd just enthused about the people and place she liked to hang out in.
“A coupe of them, yeah,” Max grinned again. “But then, when you live with a larger than life nymphomaniac, and have a drama queen lesbian for a best friend, everything else just pales in comparison, right?”
Logan had to let out a burst of laughter at that. “Seriously? You're friends sound... interesting. At least now I can see why livin' at the institute don't scare you off.”
“Pfft,” Max waved her hand. “Those kids are nothin'. You wouldn't believe some of the crap my friends get themselves involved with.”
“Try me,” he chuckled. He couldn't exactly share the dire straits that mutant kids found themselves in, as he had himself often enough, but she looked so happy reminiscing that he just wanted to keep the smile on her face.
She was right in the middle of a story about her Jamaican philosopher friend going head to head with her boss, 'Normal' about the birth of Bob Marley and the rights of all Rastafarian's to dope up, because they'd been commanded to in the bible, when the players from earlier moseyed over.
“Table's free bud,” the guy that Logan had talked to before interrupted. Logan glanced up with a quick assessment. The guy seemed affable, but was smiling down at Max. She however, was pointedly ignoring the guy. So while there was a warmth in the pit of his stomach about that, the need to dominate and move the guy out of his territory was also prevalent.
“Thanks,” he uttered shortly and turned quickly so that his body was aligned directly opposite Max's, though he was still hyper aware of the other male near him. With his accelerated senses, there was no way he couldn't be. “You ready darlin'?” he asked with a possessive smirk on his face that no matter how hard he tried, or didn't try in this case, he didn't think he could wipe off his face.
Max took a moment to drain the last little bit of her beer and return the glass to the table. “If you're that eager to get your ass whupped, then bring it,” she chuckled and the smirk on his face turned to a grin.
“We'll see whose whuppin' who,” he teased, loving how even the artificial lights of the building reflected deeply through her eyes.
“All right,” she nodded. “Lemme make a pit stop and then we'll play. Rack 'em up?”
He realized instantly, as she had tilted her head in the direction of the back of the actual bar itself, where the signs proclaimed facilities for patrons use, what she needed. He gave her a nod and hopped off his stool, moving enough to effectively block the intruder into their conversation from her. Max gave him a look that seemed to warn that she knew what he was up to. But she said nothing as the guy behind Logan backed off to return to his friends, watching Max walk away from a distance. Logan smirked again as he overheard agreement among the group that he was 'a lucky bastard'. He couldn't disagree with them there.
Once he had assured himself that Max was fine reaching her intended destination, he moved over to the pool table. Both were free now, though there were some other people looking with interest at the tables. He quickly assessed which seemed the more level of the two, both tables having seen plenty of use. Choosing the one that had been closest to them and still had his quarters residing on the edge, Logan inserted the proper amount into the mechanism, noting that he'd have to get some more change if they played more than a game or two. He wasn't particularly fond of the sound of change jingling in his pockets.
He had just finished racking the pool balls and deciding upon the pool cue he cared to use from the limited selection when he noted Max returning. She was ambling along, wiping one knuckle along her hip and even as she did so, Logan saw something white fall from her pockets and flutter to the floor. One of the patrons, sitting at the corner of the bar, noticed as well and leaned over with an agility that said his night was just starting and swiped it up. He glanced at it and then threw it into the unused ashtray in front of him.
Max had reached Logan by then and smiling up at him, then stepped around him to choose a pool cue as well.
“You dropped something back there darlin',” he noted and Max looked up at him surprised.
“I did?” she asked, seeming puzzled.
“Looked like some paper,” he informed her and she looked a little startled as she settled the cue on the floor to rest in the crook of her arm as she quickly searched her pockets. From her left pocket came a slim fold of cash, from her right, her keys to her Ninja. Stuffing them back into her pockets, she quickly checked her back pocket and glanced at her key card for her room.
“Huh,” she muttered. “Nothing major missing. Must've just been a receipt or something,” she decided and then glanced up at Logan, at ease once again. “I kind of just stuffed everything from my other clothes into my pockets once I was changed. Thanks though.”
“No problem,” Logan nodded, relieved that it wasn't something important. “Care to break?” he asked and once more, all was right with his evening again.
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