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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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?"