milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Logan. Bar. Coffee.

He went home recently. Didn't much like it, so he came back. Things are chaos at the Casablancas house and in Neptune in general, and normally Logan would be thrilled, but his playmate's too busy for him at the moment, and Veronica and Duncan are still super-lovey.

Miliways is a better place to be at the moment.

He's pleased to be here, and looking for a chat.

((OOC: On way to cafe for homeworking, but will be online most of the night.))

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Thank goodness for squirrel diversions!

Simon Perryvall hops only Logan's sleeve.

"I think he likes you," Amy says, tone carefully light and casual.

Logan shrugs. "My dad killed my girlfriend, who had proof he was fucking around on my mom with starlets. My mom jumped off a bridge. My ex-girlfriend's best friend found out my dad committed the murder, suspected me of both that and raping the girl detective, while we were dating. She now thinks I killed a Mexican and is dating my best friend, who won't speak to me because of my dad killing his sister. Add the gang war in, and my life's pretty much shit. Terrorist parents blow major chunks, but unless they succeeded, I'm not sure how much worse it is."

As if these things can be judged on some sort of standard scale, or even a sliding one.

"They didn't." He's not looking at the bar. He's not really looking at anything.

"I killed him."

("Heart and head, that's where it counts.")

Logan grins. "Glad of that. I'd hate to have a cranky squirrel on my hands. Or my arm, as the case may be."

The squirrel chatters at him, runs up to his shoulder and starts nibbling on Logan's hair. "Hey!" he says. "That tickles."

"Ouch," Logan says quietly. He looks at the table. "Sometimes I wish I'd had the chance to kill my dad."

It's almost a whisper, that last part. "Maybe then Duncan wouldn't hate me so much."

Unsaid: Maybe Veronica would love me back.

"Simon Perryvall, that will do," she says, sternly. "I'm sorry," she adds to Logan. I thought I had finally taught him not to eat odd things."

Simon Perryvall chatters indignantly and tries to hide inside Logan's collar.

"I'm not Bound," he says. "Kinda cuts down on bar-time, being able to go back and forth."

"Yeah, not so much fun."

"Do you just turn up here or do you have a certain way to get here?"

"I'm sorry. No new girlfriend back home?"

Logan scoops the squirrel out and eyes him carefully. "I am not a tree," he says. "Nor am I some sort of bed. You're very charming, but I don't think I'd like being your home. Don't think Amy'd much like it if you left, either."

He hands the wayward squirrel back.

"I mostly just turn up, but getting back is easy. That damn door follows me."

Logan shrugs. "Nothing serious. Nothing like first love, you know?"

Not looking up, "No. You really don't."

"I am sorry," she says, taking Simon Perryvall from him. "He is still learning."

She looks at the tiny grey squirrel. "Behave," she says, and then tucks him into her apron pocket, where he promptly falls asleep.

"I don't?" Logan asks bitterly. "The man tormented me for 17 years. He made me choose the belt he'd hit me with, for God's sake, made my mother listen to my screams, taught me how not to cry out until I thought I'd die. He killed the person I loved best in the world, drove my mother off the Coronado Bridge and made my sister hate me. Please, tell me again I don't want to kill him. Because I'd beg to differ."

"It's okay," Logan says gravely. "The transition from acorn to squirrel to pet is probably very trying."

"Is it...hard coming back here?"

She thinks for a moment, "I never really had good taste in men. Not until I got a little older. So you're more casual dating?"

Logan thinks. "It was at first, when she first started dating Alain. But now, it's kind of like an escape, a way not to deal with home for a while, you know?"

"Something like that," Logan says, not sure what sleeping with your friend's stepmother counts as.

"No doubt," she agrees, though truthfully she thinks of Simon Perryvall as more of a friend than a pet.

She catches sight of the clock. "Oh, it's late. I should probably go. But thank you, for a lovely conversation."

"What else is going on at home?" She takes another sip of her coffee. "I tried that here, tried to escape...but home followed me. I think that might have been a good thing, though. At least I can see it that way now."

"But was she happy? I mean, when you can't be with someone, at least knowing they're happy...it helps a little."

She smiles slightly, "I bet you have to fight them off, Logan."

"Sure," Logan says. "It's been fun. Thanks for introducing your buddy there."

"Dad's in jail, for Lilly's murder. Her brother won't speak to me, and we used to be best friends. The only people that will talk to me are the Casablancas boys, and Dick's a royal jackass, and an idiot, and his brother's a wimp. Their dad just got arrested for insurance fraud, pushing my dad off the front page."

Logan omits his role in the affair, (Heh) and any mention of Veronica.

"It helps," he says simply, and only smiles at her last comment.

She smiles at him. "Good night, Logan. I hope I'll see you soon."

"" He holds his right hand tightly in his left, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes seem unfocused, ""

""

Logan gapes. "How did you -"

He breaks off, blinks back tears that threaten to fall. God, he's such a girl lately, he thinks.

"It's probably still a shock to him. Have you talked at all?"

"He won't talk to me," Logan says quietly. "Won't call. Won't acknowledge my existence."

He touches his face lightly, where the bruise used to be. "Except to hit me when I twit his girlfriend. Who I'm in love with, by the way."

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