#snkts

He holds out a mug of rich hot chocolate, the subtle scent of cinnamon and evaporated milk doing their best to entice. ❛ It ain't like dem winters up nort', but dere's a certain kinda charm down here, hein? ❜ He wiggles a nip of whisky in his free hand that appears almost by magic.

If someone wanted to see all of Jeff's outfits he would be over the moon! Dressing up helps him related to people to not be as scary so just give him any reason. He will dress up.

send ✍🏻 for my muse to write a personalized note to your muse.

The river bubbled at the edges of the bank, minute ripples rolling over the sandy, rocky shore, twisting at a quick current before spilling off the side of the cliff. The constant rush of the falls filled Victor's ears, where the water crashed against rocks at the bottom, and created a veil of pale mist. Here at the top of the old hunter's trail, which wound thinly through the forest to the rock that he now perched on, he hunched over his knees, and watched the fading sky. The sun arched towards the horizon, still a couple hours from sunset at this latitude, but painting the sky marbled orange and gold nonetheless. He thought he should have his water colors with him but his gaze drifted down to the valley below, knowing that that wasn't possible. His hideout, one of many, had been raided just a week ago and he'd come up this way to avoid being found. The scent of paints would just give him away to his pursuer, who he wasn't entirely sure was still chasing him... but could be. And Victor really did not want to be found right now. He had been on the move for days, stopping only at old hunting lodges he knew about or at the outskirts of towns. Despite the distance he had covered and how long he'd been running, Victor did not delude himself. The man chasing him could follow him to the ends of the Earth if he wanted to. It was a war of attrition. Who got bored first?

Victor hadn't gotten a chance to hunt in a few days. He'd grabbed a few critters on his way but leaving bones or feathers behind was a liability: one more thing to make a trail. Because of this, he was hungry, and he was eyeing the water. There were fish, trout, swimming against and in the current, and he was eyeing the runs, and pools of the river, looking for the best fishing spot. Fish could be eaten the bones tossed back in the water, leaving no trace of their consumption. Victor wanted a few to eat and having observed from a distant, he was ready to fish.

He got up, pulled off his coat, shirt, boots, and socks, and walked down to the shore, closer, sniffing and focused on the current. The water was clear and had low silt, but the brown and green bodies of the slim fish easily hid in the ripples. He walked out into the river, the cold water wetting his jeans up to his knees, and after prowling the current, careful not to lose his footing lest he fall and go over the cliff. Then, he dove into the river, ducking under the current into the deep part of the bend where the water slowed beneath the surface and dropped into a chilling cold. His claws curled around and then trapped the smooth scales of the trout in his grip, and using his toe claws he pushed back to the surface, latching at the rock to keep himself from floating downstream. He pushed the trout into his teeth, to secure it with his fangs, before rising up from the water, a few feet up from where he began. Victor shook out his head, working water out of his hair, teeth digging into the fish to savor the taste of its blood and snap it's spine, killing it.

As he drew in a long slow breath through his nose to refresh his lungs, sound drew his attention from his prize and back to the shore, then up to the rocks. Standing right beside his discarded clothes and boots, was Logan. Logan, dressed in a shirt and coat, jaw set, who was supposed to be at least a day behind Victor, and not caught-up.

Rogue's got her feet propped up on a spare chair and a book in her lap. Never you mind how often she's actually turning pages. Or the hot toddy at her elbow. Drinks and a show.

' baby-- ' a soft, sweet laugh tugs from somewhere deep in bucky's sternum, raw and decidedly honest, ' --don't take this the wrong way and all, i'm grateful, i'm... i'm happy, i like it, but, ' and he gestures toward the decadent slice of tiramisu, ' why are you bein' so sweet on me today? '