The cabin is far enough off the main road that it's not exactly comfortable walking to get to. Not rough exactly. His truck and Wes's Buick have carved something like a road, but anywhere the treads of their tires don't fall the long grasses and scrub still grows high enough to grab at your ankles, and the surrounding trees enclose their makeshift driveway enough to make it look a bit overgrown.
So it's no hardship to hear Foley, crunching and puffing up to the cabin. "You look like shit," he says plainly, appearing in the yard from around back.
He's honestly too tired to even muster decent sarcasm, or a snappiness to the retort. It just comes out tred and annoyed. He shoves the fingers of his unhindered hand through his hair, shoving it back from his face.
Target found, he's just going to - stoop over and rest his hands on his knees. Catch his breath a minute.
"I never realized how much - whew - shit my powers actually did for me."
He smiles at that. Not maliciously, but almost nostalgically so.
"Well, when you pick yourself up I'm 'round back," he says looking like he's about to return to whatever he was doing before Josh showed up. "What'd you do to yourself anyway?"
A stupid, stupid thing to do when he now takes the pain of those injuries into himself. But no one would ever claim that Joshua Foley was a smart boy. He is, however, obedient - and despite whatever he might feel, he trots after Logan.
"I started, like, trying to keep a stockpile of injuries - like, in case something awful happens, right? - but outside of a crisis they're just, really hindering."
Around the back of the cabin there's a pile of quartered wood, mostly stacked now and Logan idly cleans up the last of it. "So what do you need? Some sort of weird ritual or you just need to touch me," his smile gives away his own facetiousness. He knows how Foley works. Sort of. He's seen it happen enough times. That's not to say he could explain the physiology of it like Hank might be able to.
For a moment he feels like he's back in highschool, acting up in class just to have his favorite X-Man notice him and feeling rewarded when he finally cracks a smile.
It's a surreal feeling. How calm it is here. How casually Logan's talking to him. That was a lifetime ago. No, two lifetimes ago.
"Y'know," he says as he reaches out to lay a hand on Logan's forearm, focusing on the exact injury he wants to offload. "I don't even need to touch anymore back home. Hell, I even figured out how to repower people."
For a man who never felt like much of a teacher it's easy to forget, or else completely overlook, what some of the kid's at Xavier's might have made of him over the course of their stay.
Admittedly, he doesn't remember everything Foley's powers could and could not do, but in lieu of the details he says, "I remember what it feels like." Just before that indescribable sensation takes over. It's not unlike what Rogue does to people. At least, not from his end of things. But it goes deeper than that. Reaches something else entirely.
Josh doesn't think much about that night if he can help it, though certain words have a habit of haunting his dreams. There's something great and terrible about the memory of that much power at his fingertips. At how angry and vengeful he'd been.
He'd like to say it was the last time. But they'd both know it wasn't true. That much rage doesn't just go away.
"I'm... really sorry about that, by the way," he says, letting go of Logan's arm once the injury has transferred from his shoulder blade to the older man's. "... and about running away."
"Don't be," he says plain and blunt and without hesitation. There are things he's determined to forgive people for because none of them seem to matter in this new place. And some of those things are easier to forgive than others. Josh was, like so many of them, doing what he had to do. Or what he thought he had to do.
Those aren't choices Logan can fault someone for too long. Least of all the kids.
As whatever injury the boy inflicted on him seems to sort itself out inside him Logan rolls his shoulder with a satisfying crunch. "You're not the first solider to abandon their post in the history of other people's wars, Foley. I'm not holdin' anything against you, you know."
Those blank eyes search Logan's face for a moment, trying to determine if he's telling the truth. Once upon a time Wolverine had been his favorite X-Men and he'd have done damn near anything to talk to him like an equal, hero worship based on stories retold in comic books and across the lunchroom table. Real people don't hold up to stories.
And he guesses maybe he never did figure out how to forgive him for not being everything he thought a real hero should be. Reality was so much messier, and he never appreciated that until he was out of the school and the fantasy that things were ever going to work out.
"I hold it against myself." He stares a moment longer, then slides his hands into his pockets. Relaxing by degrees. "Which is what keeps me accountable so I don't do it again."
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no subject
So it's no hardship to hear Foley, crunching and puffing up to the cabin. "You look like shit," he says plainly, appearing in the yard from around back.
no subject
He's honestly too tired to even muster decent sarcasm, or a snappiness to the retort. It just comes out tred and annoyed. He shoves the fingers of his unhindered hand through his hair, shoving it back from his face.
Target found, he's just going to - stoop over and rest his hands on his knees. Catch his breath a minute.
"I never realized how much - whew - shit my powers actually did for me."
no subject
"Well, when you pick yourself up I'm 'round back," he says looking like he's about to return to whatever he was doing before Josh showed up. "What'd you do to yourself anyway?"
no subject
A stupid, stupid thing to do when he now takes the pain of those injuries into himself. But no one would ever claim that Joshua Foley was a smart boy. He is, however, obedient - and despite whatever he might feel, he trots after Logan.
"I started, like, trying to keep a stockpile of injuries - like, in case something awful happens, right? - but outside of a crisis they're just, really hindering."
no subject
Around the back of the cabin there's a pile of quartered wood, mostly stacked now and Logan idly cleans up the last of it. "So what do you need? Some sort of weird ritual or you just need to touch me," his smile gives away his own facetiousness. He knows how Foley works. Sort of. He's seen it happen enough times. That's not to say he could explain the physiology of it like Hank might be able to.
"Well. Go for it. Take your shot."
no subject
For a moment he feels like he's back in highschool, acting up in class just to have his favorite X-Man notice him and feeling rewarded when he finally cracks a smile.
It's a surreal feeling. How calm it is here. How casually Logan's talking to him. That was a lifetime ago. No, two lifetimes ago.
"Y'know," he says as he reaches out to lay a hand on Logan's forearm, focusing on the exact injury he wants to offload. "I don't even need to touch anymore back home. Hell, I even figured out how to repower people."
no subject
Admittedly, he doesn't remember everything Foley's powers could and could not do, but in lieu of the details he says, "I remember what it feels like." Just before that indescribable sensation takes over. It's not unlike what Rogue does to people. At least, not from his end of things. But it goes deeper than that. Reaches something else entirely.
no subject
Josh doesn't think much about that night if he can help it, though certain words have a habit of haunting his dreams. There's something great and terrible about the memory of that much power at his fingertips. At how angry and vengeful he'd been.
He'd like to say it was the last time. But they'd both know it wasn't true. That much rage doesn't just go away.
"I'm... really sorry about that, by the way," he says, letting go of Logan's arm once the injury has transferred from his shoulder blade to the older man's. "... and about running away."
no subject
Those aren't choices Logan can fault someone for too long. Least of all the kids.
As whatever injury the boy inflicted on him seems to sort itself out inside him Logan rolls his shoulder with a satisfying crunch. "You're not the first solider to abandon their post in the history of other people's wars, Foley. I'm not holdin' anything against you, you know."
no subject
And he guesses maybe he never did figure out how to forgive him for not being everything he thought a real hero should be. Reality was so much messier, and he never appreciated that until he was out of the school and the fantasy that things were ever going to work out.
"I hold it against myself." He stares a moment longer, then slides his hands into his pockets. Relaxing by degrees. "Which is what keeps me accountable so I don't do it again."
That and being scared shitless of Emma Frost.
"When - when are you from, anyway?"