2013.10.24 - Helping Hand

Logan heard wind of a Lunair Weir, a nineteen year old botany student that was an heiress or included in some family fortune. So Logan followed her to a small coffee shop not too far from her house. He figured if Xavier's academy could have provided her with some educational needs, there were rumors she had powers, maybe she could have been a backup financer incase Warren one day lost his mind. Also two financers were better than one. People stared at his brown bomber jacket, jeans and black tanktop, as he waited in a trendy coffee shop. Usually rugged folks avoided places that charged six bucks for a cup of coffee due to beans that came from some distant island. He waited to get his drink and then went to wherever Luna decided to sit herself. "Are you Lunair Weir?" he asked.

Lunair is indeed, Lunair. Her past is a bit shady. And weirdly, her records seem to just - be fuzzy before the age of 12. But still. She likes her tea. A lot. She dresses oddly - mostly in the fashion of gothic or sweet lolita. Sometimes something more formal with slacks. Either way. She settles in with a tea bag and pot of hot water. A botany textbook rests in front of her, as do several cute mechanical pencils and a notebook. Mercenarying is not for her today. No siree. But it's hard to shake the toll mercenary work has taken on her. She has a thousand yard stare and doesn't seem to emote quite right or on time now and then. But then. Um. She blinks, looking up to - see Logan. And asking her name. This puts her a bit on guard and she's still a moment. "I am. May I help you, sir?" Peer.

"May I sit?" Logan sat once he was given approval. "I heard you had school aspi-," a scent interrupted his words. Sniff. Sniff. His eyes widened for a second then narrowed. A feint aroma of gun powder, explosives, desperation and chimichangas danced up Logan's nostril. Only one person in the world smelled like that. In a low voice Logan whispered, "Why do you smell like Deadpool?" Now he was on guard too ready to strike just in case Deadpool decided to make a team and he had somehow recruit, maybe brainwashed, Luna.

"Certainly," Lunair smiles politely. She sets her botebook and things aside. Then he whispers. And Lunair gets the oddest, most horrified expression on her face. "What." Her voice is low, now she's DEFINITELY on her guard, eyeing Logan warily. Did he SNIFF HER? "... who sniffs people?" Lunair asks in a whisper. Mortified. "And if you have to ask, I help him out." A sidekick. "He was nice to me when most people..." Aren't. There's fear and uneasy.

He didn't sniff her as much as he just smelled her. Granted it was a little more audible like he had something stuck in his nose. Most people forgot Logan had an enhanced sense of smell on par with an animals, "You know the guy kills for fun, right?" He was going to warn Luna more but it sounded like the world spat on her a little. Logan knew what that felt like too well. "If ya ever need an ear kid, I've got two," Logan extended a hand, "Logan." His reputation may have preceded him. In the past before the memory wipe Logan was a ruthless killer. Others were even made by various organizations so they could be their answer -to- The Wolverine. His original intent for being here was fading away.

Lunair also doesn't know Logan too well. Hazard of living under the equivalent of a rock. She nods. "Yeah." She doesn't - seem ruffled by it at all. She seems troubled in a way. Hmm. She just sort of eyes him. Carefully. "I'm not sure-" What to say. She's surprised. She just kind of - carefully accepts the hand. She has some inkling of his reputation, but. She nods. "Pleased to meet you, Logan. I am still Lunair. And um, sorry to disappoint, I guess." That seems to happen a lot. Her best friend seems to scare others away. But he wasn't afraid of /her/ and he helps and ... it's confusing.

Logan looked at her, "He don't scare me darlin'." Pausing for a moment he asked, "Why are people afraid of you? They shouldn't be. Ya look good n' come off no different than anyone else I met near yer age," there Logan was being quite honest. He watched the teenager just trying to figure her out. The outfit screamed outsider and comfortable with it, the few bits of background screamed scientist, and her company screamed trouble. What was her story? Logan was intrigued.

Lunair shrugs at that. "Not everyone sprouts tentacles or whatever," She points out. Her voice is soft. "It's a long story." There's a deep reluctance. "Except -" And she seems at a loss. "And, um, thanks." There's a little trouble with social skills, but. "I am a bit creepy when I'm not doing well." Manners and socialisms. "But it's mostly what I do." She looks around. People don't seem to be paying attention to much besides the prepiped tunes around them.

"Happens to the best of us. When I lose it I become an animal kid. I know how ya feel," he said. His gaze went to hers, "If ya ever wanna learn how to control it I know of a place. It helped me. You might be able to bottle it fully, but ya might not. The place will teach ya how to control it on some level. More than ya can now n' trust me I know what I'm talking about," his eyes looked into hers. "When I lose it I go after friend and enemy, I ain't in control. It ain't pretty but Xavier's school helped me," his words were sincere. In his mind Logan believed Xavier's could have helped any mutant or powered individually if they really wanted help. Unlike before Logan was now trying to pique Luna's interest for the right reasons.

Blink. "... I can - I -" Well. "It's hard to explain." She admits. "I don't know if I want to abandon my best friend," Lunair seems genuinely torn. Deadpool's helped her so much. And yes, that's probably a completely baffling idea to anyone who knows Deadpool - that he might have a teenaged sidekick puttering around. "I probably need some space to show you." She sighs softly. "And I understand. I'll listen a bit." Her job IS alarmingly lethal for her age. "But this is all I know and do." She smiles faintly, almost sort of sadly. That thousand yard stare. She just might be a hitman! Sometimes. If the pay is right. "So, y'know. We'll see. I'll look." And listen. She's curious, perhaps and no longer outright suspicious.

Pulling out a card from his wallet he handed it to Luna. On it was Logan's number, it forwarded to a cell phone, "When yer ready to show me. Call me." His eyes looked at Luna, "There's always another way kid. I thought like that too. I was made to be a weapon and all I knew deep down was how to kill. Still do, but y ain't gotta go down that road." The look turned soft, "I ain't sayin' ya gotta ditch yer friends. Just there's always another way. Just look up Wolverine if ya wanna see proof," he paused for a second waiting for her to process. "When yer ready to talk n' listen find me. I don't wanna push but the offer will always be there. Whenever yer ready." Logan knew not to push too hard. Luna had to figure out things for herself just as Logan did. His gaze looked at her, "Call the number if ya ever needed an ear too. Don't hestitate," he added at the end then got up. "I know it's a lot to take in but I mean every word Luna." On that note he started to pull back and leave just letting Luna think.

Lunair carefully accepts the card. She smiles. "Thanks. And ... we'll see. I can't - here," It's a bit open and really, she can't pull a weapon out here. She seems cautiously open. "And thanks. He's odd, but he's been nice to me." And he helps her out. It's an odd relationship. Dysfunctional human arsenal meets ... Deadpool. Yeah. She shrugs and smiles a little. "I understand, I think. I'll see you around. And - it is." She admits. Suddenly her book and notebook pale in comparison. There's a soft sigh. It is a lot to turn over suddenly. She's been hiding herself from the college. She shrugs and looks over. "I will think. And I appreciate it. Thank you. It's very kind of you." She means it.