Fic: Like a Liar I Believe (X-Men, Logan + Warren + Scott)
Title: Like a Liar I Believe
Author: harmonyangel
Fandom: X-Men
Characters: Logan, Warren, Scott (gen, but you could pretty much infer any pairing thereof)
Word Count: 2,200
Rating: R for language and violence
Disclaimer: Marvel owns it all!
Spoilers: The Utopia crossover, and the current volume of X-Force through issue 17.
Summary: Logan doesn't like Warren, but he'll be damned if he'll let him go crazy on his watch.
Author's Notes: Written for likeadeuce in the Utopia Fic Challenge at xmen_on_lj, for the prompt "Behind the scenes, Scott gets X-Force ready for their role in fighting off HAMMER." likeadeuce was also my fantastic beta. The scenes in this fic attempt to integrate Uncanny and X-Force canon, so forgive me if the timelines are fudged a bit. The fight scene with the rescue of Nori Ashida, including all of its dialogue, is directly from X-Force 17, and a later quote is from the "Exodus" one-shot of Uncanny X-Men; all other words and scenes are entirely my own invention.
“I’m not a monster, I believe / Like a liar I believe / Helps me navigate the wooden smiles, the raging sea.” ~ Matt Nathanson, “Angel”
At Angel’s Aerie in Colorado, the bedrooms are all arranged in a row down a central hallway on the second floor. So it’s no surprise when Logan, with his enhanced senses, notices the moaning coming from the master bedroom. Normally he’d ignore the noise - it isn’t the first time he’s heard a nighttime racket coming from Warren’s room - but tonight’s moaning sounds a lot less like pleasure and a lot more like pain.
Damnit, Logan thinks. He doesn’t like Warren. He’s never liked Warren. He’s never had much use for holier-than-thou pretty rich boys and their inconsequential problems. But Warren is his teammate, and Scott’s friend, and Logan doesn’t exactly have a track record of making smart decisions. He stands up, pulls on a pair of pants over his boxers, and pads down the hallway to investigate.
Warren’s door is locked, but Logan solves that problem with a well-placed claw between the door and its frame. Inside, he finds Warren apparently asleep, tossing and turning in his bed. Torn feathers are fluttering around him, their falling grace a sharp contrast to the violence of Warren’s movements and the strangled sound of his moans. Logan takes a step forward in a good faith attempt to wake Warren from his nightmare, but at that moment Warren shifts, his skin turning blue, torn wings transforming into sleek metal. Still asleep, still tossing and turning, Warren - now Archangel - releases a handful of razor-sharp wing blades, which whiz across the room and lodge themselves in the painted walls. All of the blades, that is, except the one that lodges itself into Logan’s chest.
Logan knew this was going to be a stupid decision.
“Jesus Christ, Worthington!” he shouts, pulling the blade out of his skin. It’ll heal in a minute, but right now it hurts like hell. Luckily, Logan’s yelling is startling enough to rouse Warren from his nightmare, and he sits up sharply, still in Archangel battle mode, before recognition floods his features.
“Logan?” he asks, settling back into his more human form with a shudder of wings. “What the hell are you doing in my bedroom at -” he glances at the clock on his nightstand, then throws his hands wide in his incredulity “-three o’clock in the morning?”
“What the hell are you doing shooting crazy death blades at people in your sleep?” Logan counters, tossing the bloodied blade onto the foot of Warren’s bed for emphasis. “You’re damn lucky it was me, and not Cyke calling you for a mission.”
Warren stills at that, and Logan makes a note of the nerve he must have struck. He bends down, picking up the blade and laying it next to the clock.
“You were making a riot in here,” Logan says. “Didn’t need you waking up the whole team.”
Warren nods, still stiff. “Well. I’m awake now, and everything’s fine. You can go.”
Logan makes a little growl of disbelief at the back of his throat. “Yeah, you sure seem fine.”
Warren pushes a lock of his shaggy hair behind his ear, and Logan notices that his hand is shaking. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had a nightmare. I’ll get over it.”
No one can say Logan didn’t try. He shakes his head. “Install some better locks,” he advises, and turns on his heel.
“Logan-“ Logan stops, glancing back. “Thanks,” Warren says.
The word doesn’t seem to come easy.
“Whatever,” Logan replies.
~*~
Warren isn’t himself. Logan knows that, without a doubt. If the transformation and the nightmares weren’t big enough clues, Warren’s newly intense bloodlust in battle is a dead giveaway. And it isn’t long before it starts to compromise X-Force missions.
The battle isn’t going well. The stakes are high, with Nori Ashida’s young life hanging in the balance, and Warren’s the only one who can break through the phalanx of guards quickly enough to grab her before she overloads on her powers and kills herself and everyone around her. But in the heat of battle Warren is an animal, worse even than Logan in a berserker rage; he sends blades out from his wings again and again in the direction of the guards, ignoring everything but his remorseless slaughter.
“Warren!” Logan shouts. “You have to get her back! Warren!”
He grabs him, wrapping an arm around his chest from behind the metal wings. “Stop! Warren, stop it! You have to get to Ashida!”
But Warren’s Archangel voice is cold and mechanical. “If she is strong, she will survive.”
“Snap the fuck out of it, Worthington!” Logan growls, right into Warren’s ear, but he doesn’t give him a chance to respond; instead, he releases a claw on his right hand and drives it through Warren’s shoulder, hoping the pain will reawaken whatever’s still human inside of him.
Warren hisses in pain, but Logan knows he’s achieved the desired effect when a much more familiar voice asks, “Logan, did you stab-“
Logan doesn’t give him a chance to finish. “Get the girl!”
~*~
It’s only after the mission is over and done with, after Warren’s completed his order and saved Nori and all is well, that Logan pulls Warren aside. He’s changed back into his more stable form, shaking away the metal and blue pigment of Archangel, and his shoulder is completely healed.
“You need to get a fucking grip, Worthington,” Logan says.
Warren scowls. “Says the guy who stabbed me.”
“Yeah, well, consider it payback.” Logan puts a hand to his chest where Warren’s blade had penetrated the other night.
Warren cringes almost imperceptibly. “I finished the mission, ok? Let’s just forget about it.”
Warren turns to go, and Logan grabs his wrist, holding him in place. Warren may be strong, hollow bird bones resilient under pressure, but Logan is stronger. Warren’s face flickers blue.
“Yeah, sure. Go all Angel of Death on me. Prove my point.”
Warren’s face pales again. Logan releases his wrist.
“It’s bad enough I gotta watch out for Laura and Josh every second we’re on the battlefield. I don’t wanna have to babysit you, too.”
“Babysit?” Warren scoffs. “Is that the job Scott gave you?”
“That’s the job Cyke forgot to give anyone,” Logan mutters darkly.
That stops Warren cold. “Scott knows what he’s doing. This is what has to be done.”
“Nice to know you’re following the party line. You ask his permission to take a shit, too?”
“Just because you and Scott can’t get along to save your lives doesn’t mean he’s wrong.”
“Just because you and I can’t get along doesn’t mean I am.”
Logan and Warren glare at each other, having stepped further into each other’s personal space with every retort.
“Tell me the truth, Worthington,” Logan hisses, his breath ghosting over Warren’s face, “You feel like a man? Or do you feel like a weapon?”
Warren doesn’t answer.
“Yeah. Thought so.” Logan turns away. “Let’s go debrief the guy with his finger on your trigger.”
~*~
Warren avoids Logan after that, communicating only when necessary during a mission. That suits Logan just fine. He doesn’t need to deal with birdbrain’s brooding.
Except, on some level, he does. Because the guy is going psycho, and nobody else seems to think this is a problem. Logan doesn’t blame most of them - Laura and Josh are just kids, Rahne is off doing God knows what, Dom hasn’t been around long enough to notice, Jimmy’s caught up in his revenge fantasies, and Vanisher’s a putz. But Scott - Scott should have noticed by now.
Logan hates being pissed at Scott. Really pissed, not the low-level annoyance he feels on a daily basis. He’s known the guy for years, and despite all their differences, there isn’t a doubt in his mind that he would lay down his life for Scott if he could. But he can’t help thinking that the Scott who’s running this children’s crusade death squad isn’t the same man he’s grown to trust and respect.
So when the riot starts, and Scott calls them in to tell them about their part in his grand plan, Logan knows it’s time to say something. He’s been watching Warren’s tense and twitchy body language out of the corner of his eye, and when the briefing is over he catches Scott alone in the emptying command center.
“I don’t want Wings on my team for this.”
Scott’s already sat down and turned back to the pile of papers he’s been sorting, and he looks up, startled. “Warren’s one of our best assets. That’s out of the question.” He turns back to the paper.
Logan, undeterred, grabs Scott by the collar and pulls him into a standing position.
“The guy’s a walking time bomb, Summers. One of these day’s he’s gonna go apeshit, and I’m not gonna be responsible for what happens next. Ground him.”
Scott raises a hand to his visor but doesn’t shoot. “Warren is fine, Logan,” he says, the monotone of his voice betraying neither confidence nor uncertainty. He reaches up to pry Logan’s fingers away from his collar.
Logan drops his hand and stares at Scott incredulously. “Fine? Have you talked to him lately? Even looked at him? He’s barely holding it together. Aren’t you two supposed to be best buddies?”
Scott looks away. “We’re at war, Logan. I have to use the resources at my disposal. I don’t have the luxury of putting friendships first.”
“Bullshit.” Logan shakes his head. “You just don’t have the balls to deal with your own damn issues.”
“Issues?” Scott raises an eyebrow above his visor.
“Issues with Apocalypse. Issues with Worthington. Hell, throw in your issues with Chuck, too, and Frost, and your own goddamn insecurity. It’s all making you treat people like shit, and hell, I’m used to that myself, but your friends and students don’t deserve it. Worthington’s following you like a fucking puppy dog because he’s scared and desperate for your approval and probably half in love with you besides, and you know I'm not exactly his biggest fan, but he does not deserve this.”
Logan expects a challenge - even he’s surprised by the vehemence of his argument, and Scott in a fight is the stubbornest sonuvabitch Logan’s ever met. But Scott suddenly looks weary, showing a hint of the wear and tear his solitary leadership is taking on him. He sits back down at the command center table and runs a hand over his face, composing his words. “I need him on this mission, Logan. Osborn has Hank and the Professor and any number of our kids. We need to get them back.
Logan’s about to protest when Scott continues. “But - I’ll talk to him, ok? After this mission. I promise.” He trails off, murmuring something that sounds like “I already failed him before.”
Logan studies Scott’s face, but he can tell from his smell and his heartbeat that he’s telling the truth. He nods. “Fine,” he says, and turns to go.
“Wait,” Scott calls. Logan glances over his shoulder. “You don’t deserve it either,” Scott says, quietly.
Logan shrugs, and leaves the room.
Later, after they’ve raised Asteroid M from the depths to be their new island home and Osborn’s Avengers are still attacking, Logan overhears Scott ask Warren to take Bullseye off the board.
“You don’t mean me,” Warren replies, darkly.
"No,” Scott confirms. “No, I don’t.” But for the first time his voice carries a hint of remorse, and Logan feels the smallest sense of satisfaction.
~*~
Logan is sitting in a half-finished dorm on the new island, meditating at the foot of a bed, when Warren bursts in without knocking.
“You tried to keep me off the field?”
Logan looks up. So Scott pulled through after all. “Yeah. You wanna make something of it?”
Warren’s still glaring. “I’m not just some prissy rich boy with fluffy wings, Logan. You know I’m capable.”
“What I know,” Logan says, not even bothering to get out of the lotus position, “Is that you’ve got the voice of an immortal mutant bastard in your head telling you to do things you don’t want to do, and until you’ve got that under control, you ain’t gonna be much good for anybody.” He looks up, catching Warren’s eye. “I should know.”
That quiets Warren. Logan’s been careful not to bring it up before now - in the grand scheme of the shit that’s happened in Logan’s life, being Apocalypse’s horseman of Death didn’t make an especially large impression. Not like it did on Warren - and not like having Apocalypse in his head did on Scott. But Logan still remembers it vividly enough to know what Warren’s going through - and to know that just willing it away isn’t going to be good enough.
Warren sighs, the vibration rustling his feathers. Logan's sure Warren remembers as well as Logan does the time Warren's wings of light were the only thing keeping Logan from remaining Apocalypse's mindless drone. “Scott’s going to have the Science Team look me over. They already know, so there’s no use hiding it. Maybe they can whip up something to help.”
Logan nods. “Good to know.” No use getting over-excited about it, even if he’s glad of the result.
Warren shakes his head. “I don’t get it, Logan. You hate me. Why do you care in the first place?”
Logan shrugs. He’s not sure he has an answer. “Guess it’s just my curse," he replies, and makes a mental note to talk to Scott later.
Author: harmonyangel
Fandom: X-Men
Characters: Logan, Warren, Scott (gen, but you could pretty much infer any pairing thereof)
Word Count: 2,200
Rating: R for language and violence
Disclaimer: Marvel owns it all!
Spoilers: The Utopia crossover, and the current volume of X-Force through issue 17.
Summary: Logan doesn't like Warren, but he'll be damned if he'll let him go crazy on his watch.
Author's Notes: Written for likeadeuce in the Utopia Fic Challenge at xmen_on_lj, for the prompt "Behind the scenes, Scott gets X-Force ready for their role in fighting off HAMMER." likeadeuce was also my fantastic beta. The scenes in this fic attempt to integrate Uncanny and X-Force canon, so forgive me if the timelines are fudged a bit. The fight scene with the rescue of Nori Ashida, including all of its dialogue, is directly from X-Force 17, and a later quote is from the "Exodus" one-shot of Uncanny X-Men; all other words and scenes are entirely my own invention.
“I’m not a monster, I believe / Like a liar I believe / Helps me navigate the wooden smiles, the raging sea.” ~ Matt Nathanson, “Angel”
At Angel’s Aerie in Colorado, the bedrooms are all arranged in a row down a central hallway on the second floor. So it’s no surprise when Logan, with his enhanced senses, notices the moaning coming from the master bedroom. Normally he’d ignore the noise - it isn’t the first time he’s heard a nighttime racket coming from Warren’s room - but tonight’s moaning sounds a lot less like pleasure and a lot more like pain.
Damnit, Logan thinks. He doesn’t like Warren. He’s never liked Warren. He’s never had much use for holier-than-thou pretty rich boys and their inconsequential problems. But Warren is his teammate, and Scott’s friend, and Logan doesn’t exactly have a track record of making smart decisions. He stands up, pulls on a pair of pants over his boxers, and pads down the hallway to investigate.
Warren’s door is locked, but Logan solves that problem with a well-placed claw between the door and its frame. Inside, he finds Warren apparently asleep, tossing and turning in his bed. Torn feathers are fluttering around him, their falling grace a sharp contrast to the violence of Warren’s movements and the strangled sound of his moans. Logan takes a step forward in a good faith attempt to wake Warren from his nightmare, but at that moment Warren shifts, his skin turning blue, torn wings transforming into sleek metal. Still asleep, still tossing and turning, Warren - now Archangel - releases a handful of razor-sharp wing blades, which whiz across the room and lodge themselves in the painted walls. All of the blades, that is, except the one that lodges itself into Logan’s chest.
Logan knew this was going to be a stupid decision.
“Jesus Christ, Worthington!” he shouts, pulling the blade out of his skin. It’ll heal in a minute, but right now it hurts like hell. Luckily, Logan’s yelling is startling enough to rouse Warren from his nightmare, and he sits up sharply, still in Archangel battle mode, before recognition floods his features.
“Logan?” he asks, settling back into his more human form with a shudder of wings. “What the hell are you doing in my bedroom at -” he glances at the clock on his nightstand, then throws his hands wide in his incredulity “-three o’clock in the morning?”
“What the hell are you doing shooting crazy death blades at people in your sleep?” Logan counters, tossing the bloodied blade onto the foot of Warren’s bed for emphasis. “You’re damn lucky it was me, and not Cyke calling you for a mission.”
Warren stills at that, and Logan makes a note of the nerve he must have struck. He bends down, picking up the blade and laying it next to the clock.
“You were making a riot in here,” Logan says. “Didn’t need you waking up the whole team.”
Warren nods, still stiff. “Well. I’m awake now, and everything’s fine. You can go.”
Logan makes a little growl of disbelief at the back of his throat. “Yeah, you sure seem fine.”
Warren pushes a lock of his shaggy hair behind his ear, and Logan notices that his hand is shaking. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had a nightmare. I’ll get over it.”
No one can say Logan didn’t try. He shakes his head. “Install some better locks,” he advises, and turns on his heel.
“Logan-“ Logan stops, glancing back. “Thanks,” Warren says.
The word doesn’t seem to come easy.
“Whatever,” Logan replies.
~*~
Warren isn’t himself. Logan knows that, without a doubt. If the transformation and the nightmares weren’t big enough clues, Warren’s newly intense bloodlust in battle is a dead giveaway. And it isn’t long before it starts to compromise X-Force missions.
The battle isn’t going well. The stakes are high, with Nori Ashida’s young life hanging in the balance, and Warren’s the only one who can break through the phalanx of guards quickly enough to grab her before she overloads on her powers and kills herself and everyone around her. But in the heat of battle Warren is an animal, worse even than Logan in a berserker rage; he sends blades out from his wings again and again in the direction of the guards, ignoring everything but his remorseless slaughter.
“Warren!” Logan shouts. “You have to get her back! Warren!”
He grabs him, wrapping an arm around his chest from behind the metal wings. “Stop! Warren, stop it! You have to get to Ashida!”
But Warren’s Archangel voice is cold and mechanical. “If she is strong, she will survive.”
“Snap the fuck out of it, Worthington!” Logan growls, right into Warren’s ear, but he doesn’t give him a chance to respond; instead, he releases a claw on his right hand and drives it through Warren’s shoulder, hoping the pain will reawaken whatever’s still human inside of him.
Warren hisses in pain, but Logan knows he’s achieved the desired effect when a much more familiar voice asks, “Logan, did you stab-“
Logan doesn’t give him a chance to finish. “Get the girl!”
~*~
It’s only after the mission is over and done with, after Warren’s completed his order and saved Nori and all is well, that Logan pulls Warren aside. He’s changed back into his more stable form, shaking away the metal and blue pigment of Archangel, and his shoulder is completely healed.
“You need to get a fucking grip, Worthington,” Logan says.
Warren scowls. “Says the guy who stabbed me.”
“Yeah, well, consider it payback.” Logan puts a hand to his chest where Warren’s blade had penetrated the other night.
Warren cringes almost imperceptibly. “I finished the mission, ok? Let’s just forget about it.”
Warren turns to go, and Logan grabs his wrist, holding him in place. Warren may be strong, hollow bird bones resilient under pressure, but Logan is stronger. Warren’s face flickers blue.
“Yeah, sure. Go all Angel of Death on me. Prove my point.”
Warren’s face pales again. Logan releases his wrist.
“It’s bad enough I gotta watch out for Laura and Josh every second we’re on the battlefield. I don’t wanna have to babysit you, too.”
“Babysit?” Warren scoffs. “Is that the job Scott gave you?”
“That’s the job Cyke forgot to give anyone,” Logan mutters darkly.
That stops Warren cold. “Scott knows what he’s doing. This is what has to be done.”
“Nice to know you’re following the party line. You ask his permission to take a shit, too?”
“Just because you and Scott can’t get along to save your lives doesn’t mean he’s wrong.”
“Just because you and I can’t get along doesn’t mean I am.”
Logan and Warren glare at each other, having stepped further into each other’s personal space with every retort.
“Tell me the truth, Worthington,” Logan hisses, his breath ghosting over Warren’s face, “You feel like a man? Or do you feel like a weapon?”
Warren doesn’t answer.
“Yeah. Thought so.” Logan turns away. “Let’s go debrief the guy with his finger on your trigger.”
~*~
Warren avoids Logan after that, communicating only when necessary during a mission. That suits Logan just fine. He doesn’t need to deal with birdbrain’s brooding.
Except, on some level, he does. Because the guy is going psycho, and nobody else seems to think this is a problem. Logan doesn’t blame most of them - Laura and Josh are just kids, Rahne is off doing God knows what, Dom hasn’t been around long enough to notice, Jimmy’s caught up in his revenge fantasies, and Vanisher’s a putz. But Scott - Scott should have noticed by now.
Logan hates being pissed at Scott. Really pissed, not the low-level annoyance he feels on a daily basis. He’s known the guy for years, and despite all their differences, there isn’t a doubt in his mind that he would lay down his life for Scott if he could. But he can’t help thinking that the Scott who’s running this children’s crusade death squad isn’t the same man he’s grown to trust and respect.
So when the riot starts, and Scott calls them in to tell them about their part in his grand plan, Logan knows it’s time to say something. He’s been watching Warren’s tense and twitchy body language out of the corner of his eye, and when the briefing is over he catches Scott alone in the emptying command center.
“I don’t want Wings on my team for this.”
Scott’s already sat down and turned back to the pile of papers he’s been sorting, and he looks up, startled. “Warren’s one of our best assets. That’s out of the question.” He turns back to the paper.
Logan, undeterred, grabs Scott by the collar and pulls him into a standing position.
“The guy’s a walking time bomb, Summers. One of these day’s he’s gonna go apeshit, and I’m not gonna be responsible for what happens next. Ground him.”
Scott raises a hand to his visor but doesn’t shoot. “Warren is fine, Logan,” he says, the monotone of his voice betraying neither confidence nor uncertainty. He reaches up to pry Logan’s fingers away from his collar.
Logan drops his hand and stares at Scott incredulously. “Fine? Have you talked to him lately? Even looked at him? He’s barely holding it together. Aren’t you two supposed to be best buddies?”
Scott looks away. “We’re at war, Logan. I have to use the resources at my disposal. I don’t have the luxury of putting friendships first.”
“Bullshit.” Logan shakes his head. “You just don’t have the balls to deal with your own damn issues.”
“Issues?” Scott raises an eyebrow above his visor.
“Issues with Apocalypse. Issues with Worthington. Hell, throw in your issues with Chuck, too, and Frost, and your own goddamn insecurity. It’s all making you treat people like shit, and hell, I’m used to that myself, but your friends and students don’t deserve it. Worthington’s following you like a fucking puppy dog because he’s scared and desperate for your approval and probably half in love with you besides, and you know I'm not exactly his biggest fan, but he does not deserve this.”
Logan expects a challenge - even he’s surprised by the vehemence of his argument, and Scott in a fight is the stubbornest sonuvabitch Logan’s ever met. But Scott suddenly looks weary, showing a hint of the wear and tear his solitary leadership is taking on him. He sits back down at the command center table and runs a hand over his face, composing his words. “I need him on this mission, Logan. Osborn has Hank and the Professor and any number of our kids. We need to get them back.
Logan’s about to protest when Scott continues. “But - I’ll talk to him, ok? After this mission. I promise.” He trails off, murmuring something that sounds like “I already failed him before.”
Logan studies Scott’s face, but he can tell from his smell and his heartbeat that he’s telling the truth. He nods. “Fine,” he says, and turns to go.
“Wait,” Scott calls. Logan glances over his shoulder. “You don’t deserve it either,” Scott says, quietly.
Logan shrugs, and leaves the room.
Later, after they’ve raised Asteroid M from the depths to be their new island home and Osborn’s Avengers are still attacking, Logan overhears Scott ask Warren to take Bullseye off the board.
“You don’t mean me,” Warren replies, darkly.
"No,” Scott confirms. “No, I don’t.” But for the first time his voice carries a hint of remorse, and Logan feels the smallest sense of satisfaction.
~*~
Logan is sitting in a half-finished dorm on the new island, meditating at the foot of a bed, when Warren bursts in without knocking.
“You tried to keep me off the field?”
Logan looks up. So Scott pulled through after all. “Yeah. You wanna make something of it?”
Warren’s still glaring. “I’m not just some prissy rich boy with fluffy wings, Logan. You know I’m capable.”
“What I know,” Logan says, not even bothering to get out of the lotus position, “Is that you’ve got the voice of an immortal mutant bastard in your head telling you to do things you don’t want to do, and until you’ve got that under control, you ain’t gonna be much good for anybody.” He looks up, catching Warren’s eye. “I should know.”
That quiets Warren. Logan’s been careful not to bring it up before now - in the grand scheme of the shit that’s happened in Logan’s life, being Apocalypse’s horseman of Death didn’t make an especially large impression. Not like it did on Warren - and not like having Apocalypse in his head did on Scott. But Logan still remembers it vividly enough to know what Warren’s going through - and to know that just willing it away isn’t going to be good enough.
Warren sighs, the vibration rustling his feathers. Logan's sure Warren remembers as well as Logan does the time Warren's wings of light were the only thing keeping Logan from remaining Apocalypse's mindless drone. “Scott’s going to have the Science Team look me over. They already know, so there’s no use hiding it. Maybe they can whip up something to help.”
Logan nods. “Good to know.” No use getting over-excited about it, even if he’s glad of the result.
Warren shakes his head. “I don’t get it, Logan. You hate me. Why do you care in the first place?”
Logan shrugs. He’s not sure he has an answer. “Guess it’s just my curse," he replies, and makes a mental note to talk to Scott later.