capeandcowllogs | (no subject)

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(no subject)

WHO: Selina & Logan
WHERE: Expensive boutique uptown
WHEN: Afternoon of 4/13
SUMMARY: Logan tracks Selina down because her life sucks as usual. And must deal with scary sales clerks.
WARNINGS: Probable hugging
FORMAT: Para to start, then quicklog?

It's terribly cliche, but Selina does go shopping sometimes when things are a bit too complicated. She has a good eye for fashion, and it's a bit nice to pretend that the worst problems can be fixed with a visit to a tailor. Beside, she has the money and less of a reason to save it in an alternate dimension and all.

So after surviving coffee with Helena, she spends some time perusing the resort collections at a number of exclusive shops uptown. Trying on piles of clothes, purchasing a piece here and there. It's mostly an excuse to avoid thinking.

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Logan hadn't followed her to the coffeehouse. He could have done it -- and maybe he should have, seeing as how Creed was still lurking around like a bad stink -- but he'd wanted to give her some room. Give them both some room. He'd checked in on her later, though, in the cool hours just before dawn: a stroll down the sidewalk in front of her building; a glance up at her window to see the light on inside.

Tracking her through the crowds of afternoon shoppers isn't difficult. She's ended up in the kind of place that has polished marble floors and only one dummy in the window. The security guard at the door gives Logan -- dressed in bluejeans, motorcycle boots and an open-necked Chambray shirt which saw better days sometime around the Reagan administration -- a narrow look. Logan ignores him and heads inside.

The place smells like orchids and expensive perfume. Logan approaches Selina from behind.

"It'll look good on ya," he growls by way of greeting.

Well, that's unexpected. She smiles a bit as she turns away from her reflection. The sales clerk assisting her looks rather put out at the new arrival, so she leans over and gives Logan a quick kiss to ruffle a few more feathers.

"You think so?" Not that she disagrees. She knows what she looks good in, and the dark metallic sheath emphasizes all the right curves.

Logan moves to stand behind and a little to one side of her, brushing his fingertips across the inlet of her lower back, relishing the feel of the fabric and her warmth.

"Yeah." He gently kisses her shoulder, earning them both a polite cough from the clerk.

"Well. I suppose I'll have to get it, then. One sec." She steps back behind the curtain, sliding it shut ever so slowly before slipping off the dress and dressing back in her own clothes.

The clerk rings up the dress quickly enough that Selina had second thoughts about paying for it. Very rude. But in the end, she handed the credit card over. It's only a couple hundred, anyway. It's added to her growing armful of bags.

"I was going to hit the shoe store next." She figured Logan probably wanted to talk. Check up on her. But she wasn't really in the mood at the moment.

Any other day, any other person, and Logan might've made his excuses and left to find something more enjoyable to do -- like, say, having his head smashed into a wall by some boozed-up teamster -- but he knows what it's like to have someone walk into your life and change everything just by being there, so he stays. Even goes so far as to put out a hand to take her bags. Hell, he hadn't spent all those hours shadowing Jubilee and Kitty around endless shopping malls just to learn nothing.

Still.

"This shoe store got a wet bar?"

Seeing him offer to take the bags, such a traditional boyfriend move, makes her smile. "We could grab lunch instead. My treat."

She has plenty of shoes, after all. And she doesn't really have a good reason to torture the man.

Logan glances over her shoulder at the store clerk -- now giving them both the stink-eye -- and nods. "Sure."

Selina does the polite little finger wave favored by wealthy socialites in the direction of the clerk as she lets Logan take the bags. He offered, after all.

There's a deli down the block that she directs him to, primarily because she knows they have a great beer selection. Nice big sandwiches stuffed full of meat, too. She orders a chicken salad and an ice tea for herself, however. Not that hungry.

The place Selina takes him to doesn't have Molson, so Logan orders a Heineken and a roast beef sandwich, snags a plastic-wrapped toothpick from the counter and sets the bags down under an empty table. He waits for Selina to seat herself before doing likewise, skinning the toothpick and slotting it into the corner of his mouth.

"Goin' somewhere nice?" He gestures down at the bags between their legs with a tilt of his head.

"You never know." She takes a sip of her ice tea. "Was just in the mood for shopping, really."

Adding a packet of dressing to her salad, she prods his leg under the table with the toe of her shoe. "What about you? Following me?"

Logan looks Selina in the eye. He knows her well enough to understand why she doesn't want to talk about it, but he's not about to lie.

"Wanted to make sure you were doin' all right."

She's silent for a few moments, eating a bite of salad. "There's not even ten years between us," she finally replied. "It's just..."

Selina ponders over another forkful. "...Weird."

Logan pops the cap off his beer with a thumbnail and lets it sit for a moment.

"I hear ya." He gestures towards her with a tilt of the bottle. "Least she ain't tryin' to kill you."

"There's always that." Selina shakes her head and works on her salad some more.

"Her world's pretty different," she eventually adds into the silence. She's comfortable enough with him that there's little awkwardness there whether she talks or not. "Makes me wonder about things I told myself I'd stop dwelling on."

Logan makes a noise around his sandwich, swallows, takes a swig of his beer and looks at Selina across the table.

"She look like you?"

"There's a definite resemblance, yeah." Her fork punctures a tomato. "She has her father's eyes, though."

Selina pops another bite in her mouth. "She's a metahuman too. Apparently, I was one in her reality."

He picks a shred of beef up off his plate and chews on it thoughtfully. His gaze doesn't stray from Selina, his expression unreadable. "Was?"

"She died." The words fell flat. "Helena thought I was a shapeshifter or something when she first saw me."

The salad didn't have much of a taste, but she kept eating it. "Seems like she and her mom were really close. It would explain why she took to me so fast."

Logan makes a pensive noise and takes another mouthful of beer.

"Universe is a funny damn place," he agrees, then pauses for a moment before continuing. "I don't know much about bein' someone's parent -- only chances I've ever had, I blew 'em before I even knew what I'd got, and you saw how Daken turned out -- but it seems to me like maybe Helena's here for a reason. Like maybe this is a second chance for the both of ya. A chance to have somethin' good."

There's a knot in her throat. Selina takes a long drink of ice tea to help wash it down. "Maybe," she replies, and her voice is a little thicker, a little heavier than usual.

Setting her glass down, she reaches over and squeezes Logan's hand. "Kitty turned out pretty good," she tells him.

Logan grunts disagreement, but turns his hand to grip Selina's. "Nothin' to do with me," he replies. "That kid woulda turned out good no matter how she ended up doin' it."

Selina shakes her head. "I think you're selling yourself short."

And then her mouth twitches into a smile, because she just caught on to the wording she used. She smothers any possible laughter with a large bite of salad.

Logan gives the the kind of look that always failed to make Jubilee quake in her boots, but a smile twitches at the corner of his mouth nonetheless.

She returns the smile. "You're a good guy, Logan." And by the tone of her voice, it's clear that she does believe it, even if she suspects he isn't quite as sure.

He looks her in the eye, the humor sliding out of his expression like water draining from a ditch. His eyes are dark and serious. "You ain't seen me on my bad days, darlin'."

She doesn't let her gaze stray from his. "No, I don't suppose I have."

But Scott told her a little bit about them, a long time ago. Enough to keep her from brushing this off.

Logan sees the quiet understanding in her expression and realizes she knows a little about what he means. Vague allusions to past tragedy, maybe. That's all Summers would've given her.

Any other day, he might've let the conversation drop right there. But they've come this far, and she needs to know. Needs to be able to decide.

"What'd he tell ya?"

Selina sets her fork down and rests her hands on the table. This isn't really the best place to have this conversation, but this isn't really something that's easily brushed off either.

"It was back when people were getting changed around, older and younger. The first time." She keeps her voice low, so that none of the other diners can hear. "Scott said there was a period where you were, well, basically feral. And that if you'd changed, I shouldn't even try talking to you." Her eyes are fixed on his. "I should just run."

Logan tugs his gaze away from hers and sends it ticking around the room, measuring the distance between him and the door, the windows, the nearest civilian. Old habits are the hardest to break.

"He's right," he replies, finally looking back at her.

"So I will. Or I'll take you down if need be." There's not a drop of humor in her voice at those words -- she means it. "But hell Logan, I'm not going to sit around and worry about something that hopefully won't even happen. I've got better things to do. And I'd like to think you do too."

When her eyes meet his, they're absolutely fearless.

That's what he loves her for, of course. A smile breaks out on his face and he shakes his head a little, reaching across the table to take her hand in his.

"You're a goddamn tiger." He's still smiling -- albeit faintly -- when he says it, and it's clear that it's a compliment.

Judging by her smile, she knows it. She squeezes his hand, but doesn't say anything else. She doesn't need to.

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