[ Welp, this seems to be the place. As a general rule, Logan doesn't really like labs, but he's here for a job, not to play tourist. There's a fresh, bloodied set of tears that run wicked up his sleeve, but they don't trouble him- the wounds beneath are already healed. Fucking griffins.
There in the entryway, perusing his TAB again for instructions, he can still hear the dull rumble of the storm outside, the hum of energy in the lab...and then a very, very familiar young voice that stops him cold.
It can't be. It can't, but under the scent of steel, muddled experiments, too long gone to properly identify, and slow neglect, there's blood and grass and hot sunshine cut against a razor of adamantium.
His voice his hoarse, and suddenly small, charged with hopeful disbelief: ]
no subject
There in the entryway, perusing his TAB again for instructions, he can still hear the dull rumble of the storm outside, the hum of energy in the lab...and then a very, very familiar young voice that stops him cold.
It can't be. It can't, but under the scent of steel, muddled experiments, too long gone to properly identify, and slow neglect, there's blood and grass and hot sunshine cut against a razor of adamantium.
His voice his hoarse, and suddenly small, charged with hopeful disbelief: ]
Laura?