ArchivedLogs:Two Bubs Worth

Two Bubs Worth
Me, Logan. You, Bub.
Dramatis Personae Logan & Dante	May 04 Both restless; both with a score to settle; both on the hunt - Logan and Dante meet in Harry's Hideaway in the wee hours of the morning to talk, plan and drink beer after spending most of the night chasing down leads to catch Roger, the terrorist who torched a diner in the name of 'mutant freedom'. A bartender gets involved, and other sh--ah, stuff.
Location <WES> Harry's Hideaway - Salem Center
Logan scowls, whilst sipping at a beer that he has barely touched since he sat down in a corner booth inside Harry's Hideaway for a drink and a think. It's the wee hours of the morning here; only a few patrons in the bar (most if not all of them mutants). Some of the patrons are those mutants with such obvious mutations that they only come out at night. A few of them nearby reek of the sewers beneath the city. But Logan doesn't care. Doesn't blame them either. "I dunno what yer complainin' about," he mutters at the person seated across from him in the booth. "I hardly scratched th' guy - he was just a dumb schlob raving about the evil humans. Thought he'd know something about the terrorist, or other small-time terrorists... if there is such a thing as a 'small-time terrorist'. One look at the claws an' I thought I'd get somethin' outta him--" Logan pauses to sip his beer. "--didn't expect him to shit himself an' pass out." The grizzled older mutant glances at the younger man seated with him, and half-smirks. "Reminds me--how're yer shoes, Dante?" Logan chuckles. Across the booth from him, Dante shakes his head, his face slightly twisted in partial disgust. He tosses a dampened, slightly soiled cloth into the nearby trashcan with accurate precision. Looking up, he rolls his eyes, wiping his hands with yet another cloth, before putting it on the booth next to him and taking a drink. Unlike Logan's pint, Dante's is maybe two sips away from taking another trip to the bartender. "You know, this wasn't exactly the 'adventure' I had in mind tonight. These damn boots were expensive as hell!" he replies, slight annoyance twanged in his voice as his gaze landed on Logan's eyes, and his twisted grin. A few moments pass, and as hard as he tries, Dante can't help as his twisted frown curls slowly upwards into a smirk of his own.. then, a chuckle...then, a full fledged hearty laugh, doing his best (but failing miserably) to stifle it. He let himself get the giggles out of his system, before calming down and letting his chuckle fade. His eyes turn a little more serious, as he takes the final sips of his drought. "So, what next...I mean, how hard is it REALLY to find someone like this? It's not like he's shy...He attacks in broad daylight, he targets high profile areas, and he's not exactly the most 'subtle' terrorist i'e ever seen." He sighs slightly, before waving his hand towards the bar for another drink, pushing away the empty pint towards the other...three...empty pints. "Thing that gets me," Logan adds whilst nodding in agreement to Dante, "Is what he targeted. Some... diner. Not even a crowded one. I mean, sure - it was a 'no mutants allowed' deal, but... I don't think he thought it out. Why not go after one o' those big 'no more mutants' rallies that some schmuck with a big grudge and an inferiority complex to match puts on? That's a statement." He grunts and mutters under his breath, a few choice curses bubbling to the surface of his murmuring with some clarity. "He's not shy," Logan agrees thoughtfully. "He's loud. He's... fucking invulnerable. My claws coulda been pop-out spoons for all the damage they did. Asshole made me choose between him and some smooching old couple trapped in the dressing rooms." He downs a mouthful and points a finger at Dante. "You wait 'n see: someone's seen this guy. Someone's heard 'im. We go lookin' for the most reckless dick out there with a grudge against humans and I reckon we'll get him." The Wolverine's lip curls into a scowl. "How's a guy 'sposed to focus on teaching with this shit left un-done...? Hmph. You come up with anythin' else?" He sniffs through his nostrils and raises a hand to his chin, pinching it between his forefinger and thumb, pensively. "Crown n coke, please..." Dante replies. Not to Logan's question, but to the young, ALMOST attractive looking bartender that called his summon. He smiles to her as she nods and walks quickly back to the bar. Dante takes a moment, allowing his gaze to linger for perhaps a moment too long... Good thing she was walking away! Snapping out of his stupor a few seconds later, his face turns stone again, his gaze re-fixing on Wolverine's. "I dunno if it's much...but theres this fighting ring downtown. In the backroom of a pretty sleazy bar...But i can't remember the name of it. Thing is...there were a few mutants there fighting along with the humans. Was a pretty nice payoff, too. I can see a regular winner there making a small fortune, if they frequented enough..." his voice trailed off slightly. There was no way to really say for sure if it was connected...but it was something... "An invulnerable mutant with anger management issues... and illegal fighting pits around town..." Logan ponders with a wry smirk on his face. "Yeah, what're the odds? Hmph, it's somethin'. Been checkin' up on the news when I can - but it's too depressing. An hour of CNN and I'd probably set fire to myself and some random building..." He trails off, casting his gaze over the quiet room - the odd person seated at the bar, someone watching a game on the TV set, fellas murmuring at a table, and the girl bartender serving drinks... "Heh, whaddya reckon her powers are, huh? Electrocution, fire-control - or worse: telepathy! She probably 'felt' you undressin' her with your eyes, bub. Who knows - if you dream of her t'night, it could be coz she put it there." He shrugs, smirking viciously. "Or not. Could be a normal girl. In fact..." The bearded mutant steps out of the booth and steps in the direction of the bar, grinning like a cat playing with a mouse. Dante grins slightly, a coy smirk curling his lips. "Couldn't tell ya...You know, I still don't really think of the world that way yet. Mutant, non-mutant. I just see folk...dunno if that's a good or a bad thing, yet..." he replies, picking up an empty glass and looking inside it...perhaps hoping against hope that there was still a drop left that he hadn't finished...but alas, each pint seemed dryer than the last he examines. They always go so quickly... As Logan stands, Dante's eyes, for some reason, dart to his unfinished glass. Seriously, why let a drink get warm like that? But as the man walks towards the bar, seemingly following the young woman, Dante's eyes dart back to him, and he raises his eyebrow slightly. He gets up and follows his companion cautiously a few steps behind him. "Whatre you doing? You've still got a drink, man!" He exclaims softly, unsure of Logan's intentions... "Nah, nah - stay there, kid." Logan says to Dante before heading to the bar on his own. When he reaches the bar, he leans over the counter to have a quiet word with the girl - and occasionally he glances back at Dante with a faint grin. A moment later, the young woman is leaning back to look past Logan at the booth where Dante is sitting, her eyebrows raised, her lips in a curious 'mouth-shrug', then she too grins. They whisper a little more, the girl nods to Logan, then the hairy fellow turns and walks back toward the booth. He looks very pleased with himself. Sitting down again, he looses a contented sigh and tackles his beer with his usual enthusiasm for the beverage. Glancing up at Dante, he smiles a neutral 'hey there' smile, and clears his throat. "Yeah. So. What were we talkin' about, kid?" Dante, who had taken his seat once more, watches the two talk intently, his eyebrow still slightly raised. Each time the duo look back at him only adds to his confusion and slight feeling of unease. As Logan approaches and takes his seat once more, Dante stares at him with the same confused and slightly bewildered look. "Ok, so what was that about, exactly? Not that I don't appreciate it...but you know I don't exactly need a wingman, right?" he replies, assuming quickly what Logan's intentions may have been. Getting back on topic slightly, Dante leans forward a little bit. "Looking for the terrorist...You know, I've been meaning to ask...Doesn't the professer have a way of tracking mutants? Doesn't he have that Cerebro room? Why not just ask him about it?" he inquires, surprised this option hadn't seemed to cross Logan's mind... Logan hrms. The mention of 'Cerebro' has him frowning. "Yeah, I'm familiar with it. See--when a, ah... friend ran off from the school, the Professor used it to find her... only I beat him - and the damn computer - to her. Even if I wanted to use Cerebro... I can't. Need the Prof. Need ta talk to him first. Meantime - I do things oldschool." He looks at the bartender. "Oh that? Heh. Yeah... that. She's flattered. Taken. Oh, and, uh... she said that last round's on the house." Logan lifts his chin toward the girl, grins, and then glances back at Dante. "So. We about done here? Might as well get some sleep back at the mansion." Dante looks to the bartender, back to Logan, and chuckles slightly. "Heh...well, thanks for trying, I guess," he says, shrugging and taking the new drink in his hand. He lifts it to the sky towards Logan, a wry smile across his face, as he uses his free hand to brush the long hair from his face. "Fair enough. Whatdya say tomorrow we get some training in, and I'll try to locate that backroom fight club after?" he holds his glass still in the air, awaiting Logan to hopefully do the same. "How bout it, bub," he calls out, winking slightly to the man across the bar playfully. "To you 'n me. To finding, and kicking some mutant terrorist ass!" Logan's lip curls into a sardonic half-sneer, half-grin as he rises from the table with Dante and jerks his chin toward the door. Cash is left on the counter for the bartender, plus a tip and Logan reaches up a hand to slap Dante (not too gently, heheheh!) on the shoulder. "Sure, why not." He remarks in response with muted enthusiasm. Then he glares. "And don't call me 'bub', //bub."// END LOG.