capeandcowllogs | (no subject)

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WHO: Claude and Logan
WHERE: Logan's unassuming little apartment thing.
WHEN: Now?
WARNINGS: Will end if needed.
SUMMARY: Claude is bound and determined to do this 'break into people's houses and mooch off their food' thing. Pity he busts into the house of a guy with freaking enhanced senses.
FORMAT: Paragraph.

Claude was getting really tired of all of this. This damn City was trying hard to make an honest man out of him. Sure, most of the houses that he broke into were just normal people. Normal, boring, every-day, dull people. However, every now and then there would be someone who would see him, who would realize that he was there or who would just catch him in the act.

Like James Bond. Bond must have had a damn tracker or something like that. It didn't do any good for Claude's already slightly paranoid self.

Frowning, Claude walked up to his unassuming break-in place of choice. He looked over the door. Simple enough. He tried the lock. Locked. Frowning, Claude threw his weight against the door a few times. Eventually, it gave. He knew that it probably was better for him to actually try and pick the lock-his skills were insanely rusty, bordering on nonexistent. However, he was thirsty adn wanted to sit down somewhere. Lock-picking could wait.

Entering the room, Claude looked around. A couch, a refrigerator...hello there, refrigerator. He walked to it. Opening the door, the Brit's eyes lit up. This thing was full of beer. Wonderful. Grabbing a beer, Claude sat down on the couch, smile on his face.

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Logan had chosen the apartment based on its proximity to his favorite bar and the fact that the little old Chinese lady who owned the building liked his jokes. Wasn't like he needed somewhere fancy, seeing as he was only there a couple days out of the week. Just so long as it had a bed and a place to keep his beer and his smokes, he was happy as a pig in crap.

He knew something was wrong as soon as he stepped out of the stairwell and into the hall. An almost tangible feeling of intrusion hung in the air; of territorial lines broken. He paused, paper bag of groceries hooked under one arm, his nostrils flaring. Then he saw the door to his apartment hanging open, the lock busted, splinters of pale wood sticking out of the paintwork.

"Damnit," he snarled, reflexively popping a handful of claws as he stalked towards his place. He really didn't need this right now.

The dumbass was still inside: Logan could smell him all over. He stopped beside the open door, senses alert for any sign. There: the crack-hiss of a bottlecap being pried off.

Sonofabitch is drinkin' my beer!

That tore it.

Logan took a step back, judged the angle, and aimed a single heavy kick at the door. It swung open with a crash, closely followed by a snarling Wolverine.

"You messed with the wrong guy, bub -- "

To all appearances, there was no-one there. But the intruder clearly hadn't bargained on the fact that this apartment was owned by a guy with fifty-plus years of high-end military training, not to mention a superhuman sense of smell. Logan zeroed in on the beer bottle floating in the air above the couch almost immediately.

"Drop it, meatball."

As the door opened, Claude mentally cursed his luck, taking another swig of beer in the process. How many damn people were powered in this City? He put the beer down, looking at the person who entered. A small little fuzzball of a man. Really. Really. He wasn't plastered enough for this.

Still remaining quiet and invisible, Claude looked around, analyzing the situation. He didn't think that the guy would be able to see him. The fuzzball would have been down his throat already if he was able to see him. So how the hell did he know that Claude was there?

Maybe he could try to nick a beer on the way out. Hide it in his coat. That sounded like a good idea. Standing up, Claude walked to the fridge, keeping an eye on the man in the process.

The last time Logan'd run into someone making like they were invisible, the guy he was looking for had hidden himself in a sewer to avoid being found.

Needless to say, it didn't work.

Logan watched the envelope of scent (sweat and beer mostly) cross the room to the fridge. The knuckles under his claws started to turn white.

"Don't even think about it, bub."

Claude smirked slightly, looking at the man. He was testing him. That much was obvious. Part of him just wanted to be left alone, just wanted to not deal with this guy. The other, less rational part of him was saying that he hadn't eaten in a while and beer sounded wonderful about now.

He stood still, raising an eyebrow at Logan. Slowly, Claude's hand reached towards the fridge, more for his own amusement than anything else.

After all, it wasn't as if the man could see him, right?

Logan bared his teeth a little, his eyes still fixed on the space his nose was telling him the intruder was occupying. He really, really didn't have time for this shit.

"You ain't movin'," he snarled. "I'm gonna count to three, and if you ain't outta here, I guess I'll be findin' out if you bleed invisible, too."

Claude frowned, looking at the man. Wait, so he could see him? How else would he be able to know that he wasn't moving? But if the fuzzball could see him, then why didn't he attack him earlier? Still remaining invisible, Claude looked over at Logan.

"How the hell did you do that? You would've been right up my ass if you had super vision or something like that."

It was weird to hear a voice coming from nothing, but it was the kind of weird Logan'd gotten used to a long while ago.

"That'd be tellin'," he growled, and lifted his free hand, moving it back and forth a little so the light danced across the metal claws. "Now back away from my beer or I take a real good guess at where your balls are."

"Tough talk coming from someone pushing five feet," Claude retorted, raising an eyebrow. As he saw the claws, though, his tone changed entirely. Damn. Those looked painful. Claude took a few steps away from the beer, carefully eying the man.

"Well then. Those change everything."

Logan bared his teeth in a humorless grin.

"You're damn right they do," he said, walking into what passed for a kitchen area and dumping his groceries on the plastic-topped table there, one eye trained on the place he thought the man was.

Claude still looked at Logan, frown on his face. "So that's your power? Knives pop out of your skin."

He resisted the urge to comment that it sounded slightly pathetic and kind of useless.

Letting the claws snakt back into his hand, Logan headed around to the fridge and pulled it open.

"That's just the beginning, bub." Hooking a beer out of a six-pack, he nudged the fridge door closed and turned to look at Claude. Or where Claude ought to be, anyway.

"So what's the plan, Griff?" He opened the beer and took a swig, wiping foam from his stubbly chops with the back of his hand. "You gonna just stand there all day pissin' me off or what?"

Claude shrugged his shoulders, knowing full well that the other man couldn't see him. "Probably. It seems to be working out so well." Claude walked over towards a wall, leaning slightly on it.

"And what the hell kind of name is Griff?"

Logan grunted, gesturing at the place where Claude was with his beer hand. The liquid inside sloshed faintly.

"You above stealin' books or what?"

"I only read good ones," he said, leaning against the wall, smirk on his face. Honestly, he hadn't sat down and read a book in ages. It was annoying him slightly.

Logan gave a semblance of a shrug and drained the rest of the beer. Heading back to the fridge, he glanced over his shoulder at Claude's scent pocket.

"So you make a hobby outta breakin' into people's homes and annoyin' them or am I just special?"

That got a small laugh from Claude. People were so stupid. They always thought they were special. Oh, there must have been some special reason for you to break into my house, it couldn't have possibly been because it was there. Bullshit.

"It was there." Simple as that. He needed a drink (which he probably wouldn't get now) and Logan's apartment was there. "You're nothing special."

Logan pulled another beer from the six pack, thought about it, and just tugged the whole thing out. If this guy was going to stick around, he was gonna need more than one.

He snorted a laugh at Claude's comment as he broke the tab on a new can.

"Not exactly news to me, bub." He gestured at the six pack. "You want one of these or not?"

Claude nodded at Logan, just as he realized he was still invisible. "If you're offering. Throw me one."

For a brief moment, he turned visible. There really wasn't any way to get a beer from Logan without turning visible. He leaned against the wall, visible and smirking slightly. "Well? Over here now-I think you'll be able to spot me."

Logan raised his eyebrows at the trick, but tossed the man a beer as promised. He took a thoughtful swig from his own can, leaning back against the closed fridge.

"That all you can do?" He growled, waving his hand at Claude.

Claude nodded as he popped the top of his beer. He took a sip of the drink. "Yeah. Nothing wrong with it."

He raised an eyebrow. "Those claws the only thing you can do?"

Logan grunted noncommittally, then seemed to think better of it. He raised his empty hand towards Claude, palm inwards. Look mama, no scars. "Hey, you think I'd look this good if that was all I could do?"

Claude rose his eyebrow. Healing. That was a plus, especially when you had metal claws coming out of your hand. "Valid point. Wish I had that thing at times."

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obscure h.g. wells reference

like claude would know that. :P

<3 claude

and <3 wolvie back atcha

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