#multiple-wars

But it was two whole days, and she had no idea if he was okay. And that couldn’t happen. So, without even thinking, she left the shelter, seeking out his scent. The gentle drizzle of rain falling down the evening sky didn’t bother her in most cases, but today she was not in the mood. It would slow her down. She moved as discreetly as possible. Sure, she was in district X, but she still liked to avoid being seen whenever possible. Sure enough, she found him. He was alive. Good. That’s all she needed to know. She turned to leave, but in a combination both of her haste to leave and the slippery ground, she pulled the most unstealth assassin move in the history books. She slipped. Right into the middle of the sidewalk. Where he happened to be walking. 

Linda hadn’t really felt the urge to drink since she’d returned to normal (she half-remembered several evenings out which would explain the lack of desire) but that didn’t mean she’d stopped enjoying the atmosphere of bars. The quiet lull of other people talking and going about their lives was really soothing to her. So, after a full day of appointments she dressed up a little, a red shin length dress, tights and heels, and walked into a place that had become something of her new local. 

Flitting between the mutant district and the main city was becoming something of a habit for her now, considering she was a week and some into her vacation here. She was in no mood to be in half a home for Chirstmas and instead had taken to the nearest bar, founding a less then friendly-looking fella and soon having him grinning as she challenged him to a drinking contest; specifically, who can down a pint the fastest. 

A few people had gathered to watch and their jaws dropped as Linda slammed her empty glass down with a whoop of celebration, “A-thank you, thank you,” she curtsied to her few watchers before covering her mouth to hide a less than lady-like burp. 

“No, no, swear to God.” Linda laughed a little, taking another swig of her wine, and looking around the busy bar. “There I am, helping the police track down some would-be murderous stalker, they open her boot expecting to find a dead-body and bam! It was full of horse shit!” She gave in and laughed loudly, running a hand through her hair, “She’d been collecting it for weeks cause the guy mentioned once when they were talking that he liked to fertilise his roses.” she shook her head and raised her glass again, “Ever since that day I can call horse-shit at ten yards.”

EF: Let's try this again.

EF: I think Jean is uh, needs attention?

Emma could count to one hundred with places she would rather be than out front of Logan’s door, but here she was. But she didn’t falter, Emma rarely did, so she lifted a hand and knocked firmly on the door a few times, crossing her arms over her chest and offering him a tense smile when she door opened. “Logan,” She said, then sighed. “We need to talk.”

“Which wayward child are you looking for? Or are you holding Jean’s purse?” She pursed her lips against a grin but only for a moment before she flashed on at him. “I’m glad you’re out here.” A lot of young mutants looked up to Logan if he was out here -- it was probably sending a good message to them.

Alternatively, if shit went down, it was one more person who knew what the hell they were doing.