[The trees trap the air and the damp in a way that makes scent tend to pool and linger. And this one smells distinctly a lot like him. You’d think a little familiarity in a place like this might be a bit of comfort but so far everything here that puts Logan in mind of himself hasn’t been all that welcoming.
Cigar still burning, he sets it in the crook of a tree— a false flag left there to smoulder as he doubles back around. Cutting a wide arc about the thing following him. And waiting. Claws draw. Shoulders tight. Until the crunch of a twig sets him off like the pull of a trigger.
He whips the brush back and freezes at the face of a girl. An angry looking girl. But a girl none the less. It’s a realization that snaps his claws back into his hand, as if she might not have noticed.]
no subject
Cigar still burning, he sets it in the crook of a tree— a false flag left there to smoulder as he doubles back around. Cutting a wide arc about the thing following him. And waiting. Claws draw. Shoulders tight. Until the crunch of a twig sets him off like the pull of a trigger.
He whips the brush back and freezes at the face of a girl. An angry looking girl. But a girl none the less. It’s a realization that snaps his claws back into his hand, as if she might not have noticed.]
“The fuck are you doin’? Following strangers?”