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 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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