If someone else had said that, it would have been in a disapproving tone, or at least in a patronising one. But with Rogue, she just accepts how I am, and is kind of amused by it. I grin wider at her.
"Nothing like a life-threatening situation to start the day," I say, and we approach the gates. "Put your head on your knees, kid," I add, because though I'm happy to mess with my own safety, I'm not going to put Rogue at more risk than I have to. The thought of something happening to her is awful, but it being my fault - Doesn't bear thinking of.
Yeah, the gates aren't opening as I approach, and I notice a couple of other vehicles starting to move. Time like this I could really do with Scott's motorbike. But screw it, I can outrun these bastards. I rev hard and go straight for it.
The gates burst open with a huge bang, and there is a great screech of metal as the gates tear along the van. But we don't stop, and the windscreen doesn't shatter, so I count that as a success.
There are a couple of people behind us, but I manage to shake them. They're obviously not professional assassin types, since they seem to care about road safety, whilst I... do not. So, after a few interesting turns and crossing a few lanes, we're free. I think we've got off surprisingly easy. Guess when you chop off the Gorgon's head, the body doesn't know what to do. If Lindsey can be compared to a Gorgon... Which at the moment I'm quite happy to do.
"So, where to, kid?" I ask. "We should dump this van at some point, but we should take you somewhere. Don't want to take you back to your place in case they go there. You can crash at mine - they know where I live, but the Nag's Head isn't exactly the kind of place Wolfram and Hart is welcome. But we can find somewhere else," I add hastily. I don't want her to think I'm trying to get her back to my place. But why the hell would she assume that?
I wrap my arms around my knees and duck as we crash through the gates. There's a loud screech of metal on metal and I grit my teeth, the sound making my head practically vibrate. I dig my hands into my hair, squeeze my eyes closed even though I can't see anything anyway and hold my breath.
And just like that, we're clear.
The van keeps speeding down the street, Logan driving more than a little erratically. I straighten up and almost duck again as a car comes rushing towards us, but Logan spins the wheel and we hurtle down another street. I'm torn between watching the road ahead and checking the rearview mirror, where I can see our pursuers getting smaller and smaller in the distance. It seems too easy. Like they've let me go. Although I guess Lindsey's already gotten what he wanted from me. And I'm not going to question freedom.
As we shake the people following us, Logan asks me where I want to go. I don't have to give it more than a moment of thought.
"Your place," I say quickly. It's where I'd feel most safe. It's really where I want to be right now. With Logan.
"Your place," says Rogue quickly, and there's something in the tone of her voice that makes my gut clench. Shit, I think. I am way too old to have a crush on an eighteen year old girl. Too old and too messed up. I breathe out hard through my nose and drive the van through the streets, more slowly now we're out of immediate danger.
We dump it a few blocks from The Nag's Head.
"I'm warning you. Place I'm at ain't too pretty," I say. "Lot of rough people. Don't speak to anyone. Don't look at anyone. Far scarier things than mutants in there."
We get back to the pub. It's pretty quiet at this time of day - demons or whatever they are aren't really into daytime drinking, it seems, and there aren't any fights on until tonight. I'll skip fighting this round, though. I could do with the cash, but it might upset Rogue.
I show her up to my room. I feel uncomfortably aware of how crappy it is. Not much in here. A little bathroom with a leaking tap. A hotplate. An easy chair losing its stuffing and an old TV. And a big double bed. I stare at it blankly for a minute.
"You can take the bed," I say, snapping myself out of it. "I'll sleep in the chair." I look at the chair warily. I can imagine what kind of sleep I'll have crammed into that. Shitty. "If you want a shower or something, feel free. The hot water can be a bit unreliable, but you'll get clean. Or I can get you some food." I feel strangely nervous. It's not like Rogue and I have never been alone in a bedroom before.
I raise an eyebrow as Logan warns me about the Nag's Head. It can't be much worse than the dive I first met him in, back in Laughlin City. And now... I hold up my hand, pale and fragile-looking without the glove to cover it.
"I think I can handle anything that comes at me, sugar," I tell him, wiggling my fingers slightly in a mock wave. I can't fight as well as he can, but I've got another weapon that doesn't take so much effort to use. A weapon and a curse.
Well, you can't win 'em all.
I keep my arms crossed, though, as we walk through the bar and head upstairs. It's damn shady, probably more so because of the various non-human types that are in there, and Logan was right - it's not only mutants. I can't pretend I've seen worse, but sometimes the non-humans aren't the monsters. Look at where I've spent the past few days.
Logan's room is... well, it's a room. I guess maybe living at the Mansion has spoiled me somewhat, because I remember how rough being on the road can be. How Logan's ever gotten used to it I'll never know.
"I'll have a shower," I say quickly. I hope the hot water is working this time, because I'll need a lot of it to get the feel of Lindsey's hands off of my skin. "You don't happen to have a credit card, do you?" I know the idea of it is slightly ridiculous, but... "I don't exactly have anything to go out in." The boxers and oversized t-shirt aren't gonna cut it. "And I'm starved for real food."
"Can you imagine a bank granting me a credit card?" I ask, raising my eyebrows. "I've got money, though. Not a lot, but enough." And I can always fight again. It's an easy way of making money. "Take a shower and I'll go and get you something. Probably won't be high fashion, but..." I shrug, and look down at her bare feet. "Guess you'll be wanting shoes, too."
She tells me her size and I nod, catching up my wallet from the bedside table. The door clicks shut and I stand outside for a moment, waiting until I hear the shower turn on. Then I briefly rest my head against the door before moving downstairs.
Girls' clothes. What the hell do I know about girls' clothes? Still, Rogue will hopefully be able to go back to her apartment in a couple of days, so it's not like I need to buy her a whole wardrobe. I think about what's in my wallet and smile ruefully. Not like I could afford one, either.
I pick a store pretty much at random. One that doesn't look too high class and seems to be frequented by teen girls popping gum. I find some jeans, a shirt, a sweater, boots. Even a pair of pyjamas, because Rogue has been living in that shirt and boxers combo for about a week. Then it strikes me that she won't have any underwear. I have no idea what size she wears. I stare at the ruffled rows and shake my head. No. When I get these clothes back to her she can come out and buy her own.
On the way back I buy some food. "Real food", as Rogue calls it, tends to be as Southern as she is, so I buy a bucket of chicken. But I also get her a quart of milk since she's looking sorta undernourished.
Since when did I turn into her mom?
I've managed to do all this in less than an hour, but I'm still surprised, when I get back, that the shower is still running. I put the food down on the rickety table and dump the clothes on the bed, then tap on the door.
I smile briefly and disappear into the shower. Peeling off my clothes, I stand in front of the mirror, looking over my bruises and cuts. Lindsey... the bastard could get creative. And there are plenty of unseen pains, under my skin.
If only I could get my hands on him.
Kicking my clothes aside, and not caring that the floor is pretty dirty, because honestly I can never wear them again, I turn on the shower and hold my hand under the water. At first it's ice cold, and I shiver, but slowly the pipes clang and the stream heats up. Once it's sufficiently, boil-your-skin hot, I climb into the shower, drawing the curtain. Once inside, under that blissfully scorching water, I lean my forehead against the shower wall, close my eyes and let the water sluice off of my body.
I don't realize how long it's been until I hear a knock on the door. My heart starts hammering in my chest, but slows once I hear Logan's voice. I open my eyes and can hardly see through the steam in the tiny bathroom.
"Yeah," I call out. "Fine. I'll be out in a flash."
Quickly, I wash my hair with some shampoo I find on the shelf, and scrub my skin until it's practically raw with soap. It smells like Logan and it makes me smile, for some reason. It's comforting.
Shutting off the water, I wrap a towel around me and step out of the shower. Drying myself off, I watch my reflection in the mirror. I'm not the same girl that looked at herself in the mirror last time. Everything that happens, changes me in some way. I wonder if this happens to Logan, too. Every fight, every run-in... every death.
Holding the towel tightly around me, I stick my head out of the bathroom and scan the small bedroom, spotting Logan over by the bed.
"Hey. Hand me the clothes? I'm paying you back, I swear."
Rogue comes out of the bathroom, a small figure swallowed up by my towel, and my skips a beat. Really. She's more covered up than when she was in the shorts and t-shirt, but this makes my breath catch. S'pose it's knowing how easy it is to unwrap a towel... Which is a bad thought.
"Hey. Hand me the clothes? I'm paying you back, I swear."
"You bet you are," I say, because being all chivalric about it would... send the wrong message. I pass her the bundle. "Probably not too fashionable. Didn't..." I cough. "Didn't get you any personals. Not exactly my forte, buyin' underwear." Not like I'd really had the kind of girlfriend I'd bought panties for. Had the kind you rip them off, but... And that thought could lead to nowhere good.
I turn around so Rogue can get changed, and when I look back I'm relieved. It's safer, having her dressed.
"Got chicken," I said, pointing at the bucket. "Not exactly home cooking, but..." I shrug and open the box, taking a leg out. "Tastes ok." I bite down and pass the bucket over to her with my free hand.
I smile as he passes me the clothes and wait for him to turn. I guess I could've gone back to the bathroom. Don't know why I didn't. Well, I do, but it's easier to dance around and avoid than to acknowledge. Haven't I got enough things going all sideways in my life already?
The clothes fit, surprisingly, which means that Logan knows my body better than I thought. That thought makes me blush. The jeans are a little long, and the shirt is plain, dark, long-sleeved, but it fits well, and I appreciate the effort.
"Don't worry about it," I say, turning around and smiling again. "I'll get some myself, later. I know, it's all... weird." Shrugging, I go over to the bed and sit on the edge, cross-legged, and reach for the bucket. The chicken is greasy and not quite as hot anymore and it smells delicious. I bite into it and it's the best thing I've ever tasted. I chew, swallow, bite, chew, repeat.
"It's great," I manage between bites. It's kind of embarassing, but I didn't even realize how hungry I was. "I mean it. Really. Thanks."
I watch Rogue tear into the food with a small degree of amusement.
"I mean it. Really. Thanks."
"A $10 bucket of chicken, you're a cheap date," I joke, then wonder if that's inappropriate, then wonder when the hell I got so worried about what I shoot my mouth off about. I eat some fries to cover my confusion. "Just don't make yourself sick. I'm guessing it's been a while since you ate, so you don't want to end up throwing up." Grown up duty now over, I relax and just watch Rogue plough back into the food. Girl certainly has a healthy appetite. One thing I've always noticed in women is the way they approach food. Women who pick like birds at salads aren't the kind of women I pick up. When I fancied a hard, rough lay, I'd look for a woman who'd ordered a double cheeseburger and then had dessert. A woman who eats with relish does other stuff with enthusiasm too, or at least that's what I've found.
I glance over at Rogue's slim form and wonder if her appetite for food is matched by her hunger for other things. And again I have the mental image of her gloved hand resting against my bare chest. I feel my heart rate speed up and I look away. That's not why I'm here. I'm here to look out for her and to make sure she doesn't get herself killed, not to be some pervert leching over a schoolgirl.
"If you're tired, don't feel you have to be polite and stay awake," I say. "Bed isn't too comfy, but it's got to be better than that thing Lindsey had you tied to." Lindsey. Lucky for him he's dead or I'd have ripped his head off myself.
If someone else had said that, it would have been in a disapproving tone, or at least in a patronising one. But with Rogue, she just accepts how I am, and is kind of amused by it. I grin wider at her.
"Nothing like a life-threatening situation to start the day," I say, and we approach the gates. "Put your head on your knees, kid," I add, because though I'm happy to mess with my own safety, I'm not going to put Rogue at more risk than I have to. The thought of something happening to her is awful, but it being my fault - Doesn't bear thinking of.
Yeah, the gates aren't opening as I approach, and I notice a couple of other vehicles starting to move. Time like this I could really do with Scott's motorbike. But screw it, I can outrun these bastards. I rev hard and go straight for it.
The gates burst open with a huge bang, and there is a great screech of metal as the gates tear along the van. But we don't stop, and the windscreen doesn't shatter, so I count that as a success.
There are a couple of people behind us, but I manage to shake them. They're obviously not professional assassin types, since they seem to care about road safety, whilst I... do not. So, after a few interesting turns and crossing a few lanes, we're free. I think we've got off surprisingly easy. Guess when you chop off the Gorgon's head, the body doesn't know what to do. If Lindsey can be compared to a Gorgon... Which at the moment I'm quite happy to do.
"So, where to, kid?" I ask. "We should dump this van at some point, but we should take you somewhere. Don't want to take you back to your place in case they go there. You can crash at mine - they know where I live, but the Nag's Head isn't exactly the kind of place Wolfram and Hart is welcome. But we can find somewhere else," I add hastily. I don't want her to think I'm trying to get her back to my place. But why the hell would she assume that?
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And just like that, we're clear.
The van keeps speeding down the street, Logan driving more than a little erratically. I straighten up and almost duck again as a car comes rushing towards us, but Logan spins the wheel and we hurtle down another street. I'm torn between watching the road ahead and checking the rearview mirror, where I can see our pursuers getting smaller and smaller in the distance. It seems too easy. Like they've let me go. Although I guess Lindsey's already gotten what he wanted from me. And I'm not going to question freedom.
As we shake the people following us, Logan asks me where I want to go. I don't have to give it more than a moment of thought.
"Your place," I say quickly. It's where I'd feel most safe. It's really where I want to be right now. With Logan.
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We dump it a few blocks from The Nag's Head.
"I'm warning you. Place I'm at ain't too pretty," I say. "Lot of rough people. Don't speak to anyone. Don't look at anyone. Far scarier things than mutants in there."
We get back to the pub. It's pretty quiet at this time of day - demons or whatever they are aren't really into daytime drinking, it seems, and there aren't any fights on until tonight. I'll skip fighting this round, though. I could do with the cash, but it might upset Rogue.
I show her up to my room. I feel uncomfortably aware of how crappy it is. Not much in here. A little bathroom with a leaking tap. A hotplate. An easy chair losing its stuffing and an old TV. And a big double bed. I stare at it blankly for a minute.
"You can take the bed," I say, snapping myself out of it. "I'll sleep in the chair." I look at the chair warily. I can imagine what kind of sleep I'll have crammed into that. Shitty. "If you want a shower or something, feel free. The hot water can be a bit unreliable, but you'll get clean. Or I can get you some food." I feel strangely nervous. It's not like Rogue and I have never been alone in a bedroom before.
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"I think I can handle anything that comes at me, sugar," I tell him, wiggling my fingers slightly in a mock wave. I can't fight as well as he can, but I've got another weapon that doesn't take so much effort to use. A weapon and a curse.
Well, you can't win 'em all.
I keep my arms crossed, though, as we walk through the bar and head upstairs. It's damn shady, probably more so because of the various non-human types that are in there, and Logan was right - it's not only mutants. I can't pretend I've seen worse, but sometimes the non-humans aren't the monsters. Look at where I've spent the past few days.
Logan's room is... well, it's a room. I guess maybe living at the Mansion has spoiled me somewhat, because I remember how rough being on the road can be. How Logan's ever gotten used to it I'll never know.
"I'll have a shower," I say quickly. I hope the hot water is working this time, because I'll need a lot of it to get the feel of Lindsey's hands off of my skin. "You don't happen to have a credit card, do you?" I know the idea of it is slightly ridiculous, but... "I don't exactly have anything to go out in." The boxers and oversized t-shirt aren't gonna cut it. "And I'm starved for real food."
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I laugh slightly at this.
"Can you imagine a bank granting me a credit card?" I ask, raising my eyebrows. "I've got money, though. Not a lot, but enough." And I can always fight again. It's an easy way of making money. "Take a shower and I'll go and get you something. Probably won't be high fashion, but..." I shrug, and look down at her bare feet. "Guess you'll be wanting shoes, too."
She tells me her size and I nod, catching up my wallet from the bedside table. The door clicks shut and I stand outside for a moment, waiting until I hear the shower turn on. Then I briefly rest my head against the door before moving downstairs.
Girls' clothes. What the hell do I know about girls' clothes? Still, Rogue will hopefully be able to go back to her apartment in a couple of days, so it's not like I need to buy her a whole wardrobe. I think about what's in my wallet and smile ruefully. Not like I could afford one, either.
I pick a store pretty much at random. One that doesn't look too high class and seems to be frequented by teen girls popping gum. I find some jeans, a shirt, a sweater, boots. Even a pair of pyjamas, because Rogue has been living in that shirt and boxers combo for about a week. Then it strikes me that she won't have any underwear. I have no idea what size she wears. I stare at the ruffled rows and shake my head. No. When I get these clothes back to her she can come out and buy her own.
On the way back I buy some food. "Real food", as Rogue calls it, tends to be as Southern as she is, so I buy a bucket of chicken. But I also get her a quart of milk since she's looking sorta undernourished.
Since when did I turn into her mom?
I've managed to do all this in less than an hour, but I'm still surprised, when I get back, that the shower is still running. I put the food down on the rickety table and dump the clothes on the bed, then tap on the door.
"Kid, you alright in there?"
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I smile briefly and disappear into the shower. Peeling off my clothes, I stand in front of the mirror, looking over my bruises and cuts. Lindsey... the bastard could get creative. And there are plenty of unseen pains, under my skin.
If only I could get my hands on him.
Kicking my clothes aside, and not caring that the floor is pretty dirty, because honestly I can never wear them again, I turn on the shower and hold my hand under the water. At first it's ice cold, and I shiver, but slowly the pipes clang and the stream heats up. Once it's sufficiently, boil-your-skin hot, I climb into the shower, drawing the curtain. Once inside, under that blissfully scorching water, I lean my forehead against the shower wall, close my eyes and let the water sluice off of my body.
I don't realize how long it's been until I hear a knock on the door. My heart starts hammering in my chest, but slows once I hear Logan's voice. I open my eyes and can hardly see through the steam in the tiny bathroom.
"Yeah," I call out. "Fine. I'll be out in a flash."
Quickly, I wash my hair with some shampoo I find on the shelf, and scrub my skin until it's practically raw with soap. It smells like Logan and it makes me smile, for some reason. It's comforting.
Shutting off the water, I wrap a towel around me and step out of the shower. Drying myself off, I watch my reflection in the mirror. I'm not the same girl that looked at herself in the mirror last time. Everything that happens, changes me in some way. I wonder if this happens to Logan, too. Every fight, every run-in... every death.
Holding the towel tightly around me, I stick my head out of the bathroom and scan the small bedroom, spotting Logan over by the bed.
"Hey. Hand me the clothes? I'm paying you back, I swear."
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"Hey. Hand me the clothes? I'm paying you back, I swear."
"You bet you are," I say, because being all chivalric about it would... send the wrong message. I pass her the bundle. "Probably not too fashionable. Didn't..." I cough. "Didn't get you any personals. Not exactly my forte, buyin' underwear." Not like I'd really had the kind of girlfriend I'd bought panties for. Had the kind you rip them off, but... And that thought could lead to nowhere good.
I turn around so Rogue can get changed, and when I look back I'm relieved. It's safer, having her dressed.
"Got chicken," I said, pointing at the bucket. "Not exactly home cooking, but..." I shrug and open the box, taking a leg out. "Tastes ok." I bite down and pass the bucket over to her with my free hand.
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The clothes fit, surprisingly, which means that Logan knows my body better than I thought. That thought makes me blush. The jeans are a little long, and the shirt is plain, dark, long-sleeved, but it fits well, and I appreciate the effort.
"Don't worry about it," I say, turning around and smiling again. "I'll get some myself, later. I know, it's all... weird." Shrugging, I go over to the bed and sit on the edge, cross-legged, and reach for the bucket. The chicken is greasy and not quite as hot anymore and it smells delicious. I bite into it and it's the best thing I've ever tasted. I chew, swallow, bite, chew, repeat.
"It's great," I manage between bites. It's kind of embarassing, but I didn't even realize how hungry I was. "I mean it. Really. Thanks."
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"I mean it. Really. Thanks."
"A $10 bucket of chicken, you're a cheap date," I joke, then wonder if that's inappropriate, then wonder when the hell I got so worried about what I shoot my mouth off about. I eat some fries to cover my confusion. "Just don't make yourself sick. I'm guessing it's been a while since you ate, so you don't want to end up throwing up." Grown up duty now over, I relax and just watch Rogue plough back into the food. Girl certainly has a healthy appetite. One thing I've always noticed in women is the way they approach food. Women who pick like birds at salads aren't the kind of women I pick up. When I fancied a hard, rough lay, I'd look for a woman who'd ordered a double cheeseburger and then had dessert. A woman who eats with relish does other stuff with enthusiasm too, or at least that's what I've found.
I glance over at Rogue's slim form and wonder if her appetite for food is matched by her hunger for other things. And again I have the mental image of her gloved hand resting against my bare chest. I feel my heart rate speed up and I look away. That's not why I'm here. I'm here to look out for her and to make sure she doesn't get herself killed, not to be some pervert leching over a schoolgirl.
"If you're tired, don't feel you have to be polite and stay awake," I say. "Bed isn't too comfy, but it's got to be better than that thing Lindsey had you tied to." Lindsey. Lucky for him he's dead or I'd have ripped his head off myself.
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