Chapter Text
Her moods were a subtle thing. Logan would like to think he understood the meaning of the play of thunder and rain, but even that could be nuanced. It could mean she was angry, fiercely sad or afraid, or playful. But this was an even less certain thing, pooling about his feet.
Fog.
Logan stubbed out his cigar and got off the porch. He finally tracked her down to her attic domain, windows open and breezes blowing through the gathering mist.
"'Ro."
She shivered, like she had at Xavier's funeral. "Logan," she whispered. "I'm so confused."
He held her gently. "I'm here."