Even at high noon, or nearly that, the interior of the bar was shadowed. It wasn't open for the day yet, but that didn't matter. Stoney didn't care if an old friend showed up to sit in a corner, drink and smoke in peace. It was one of the few places Logan knew he could find peace and quiet in New York. He was even thinking of buying into it, just so he could get himself a key to the back door. Quiet-like, silent partner in a place old soldiers could drink without getting hassled. Yeah, he could put money behind that, no questions asked. Maybe there was an apartment upstairs.

He blew a plume of smoke into the thick dark air and cussed again at the wait.

Logan hated waiting. He'd gotten a message to be in New York, but it had been a week and he was tired of the noise smells of the city. Christ, people crowded in together were worse than animals. Put them in boxes with all that concrete and asphalt around, it was bad on his senses.

At least he blended in without a problem. Nobody paid any attention to him as he went from bar to bar, picking up information, meeting contacts, finishing the odd fight. The fleabag hotel he was in only cared if he was paid up. Yeah, it was time to find some place permanent to stay in the city when he had to be here for work. Fleabags tended to have real fleas. He wasn't the animal they thought he was. He liked his bed clean and bug-free.

Which reminded him of why he was here to begin with. Fury was going to pay extra for the inconvenience.

mood: cranky tags: nick fury, wolverine