Another long day on the campaign trail--they have made it all the way to Atlanta, and while Queenie is off getting her nails done, the Squirrel had decided to catch up on some reading
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Logan happens to be passing by and takes stock of the ears and tail.
He doesn't laugh as he sits down at a nearby table. Logan is very sensitive to those with unfortunate mutations. So that's not laughing, just a bit of smirking and a snort that might be misconstrued as a chuckle.
"Some guy can't handle the idea of women in power, so he's spreading nasty rumors about my fiancée," he says. "They're so wrong, they're more funny than anything else. But I don't know if she'd see it that way."
"She gonna set him straight?" He knows a few women who could, with lightening and fire and fun things like that. Not that they would, unless really riled.
"After the election, probably," he says. "And if she wants me to take care of it for her, I will... but she's more the hands-on type. She's got a way with well-placed silverware."
"Best kind of women," he says. "People can keep their mousy and dependable women; I like 'em crazy and dangerous. Lucky for me, it's what I tend to attract anyway. Normal girls don't like the... well, I can't blame them for it. They tend to have normal parents, and it makes for awkward dinner conversation."
He holds up a magazine, turned to a page with an article entitled "Dr. Cynthia Faraday on Energy, Innovation, and Life on the Campaign Trail," and featuring a standard-issue photograph of a blonde woman solemnly reading through some paperwork.
"She's great," he says. "Brilliant, you know? We're good at different things, and for her, there's nothing cold and technical she can't solve. It sure beats having squirrel-thoughts in your head all day; she actually makes sense."
He doesn't laugh as he sits down at a nearby table. Logan is very sensitive to those with unfortunate mutations. So that's not laughing, just a bit of smirking and a snort that might be misconstrued as a chuckle.
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"Everything okay there?" he asks with a grin, and takes a sip of beer.
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"Fine. What'cha readin'?" He's seen the magazines and wonders if they're articles from his world.
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Kitty could certainly get creative with some.
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"She's great," he says. "Brilliant, you know? We're good at different things, and for her, there's nothing cold and technical she can't solve. It sure beats having squirrel-thoughts in your head all day; she actually makes sense."
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