As soon as the particular scent of floor wax, new plastic and a distance smack of Cinnabon washes over him Logan’s turning for the door only to find it’s not so quick to let him out as it was to let him in.
“You’re fucking kidding me…” he grumbles and rattles the thing again but no. It won’t budge. Not without force at least. Which absolutely crosses his mind as a next step. With a SNIKT his claws appear and he reels back like he’s prepared to make short work of that glass panel when he gets the distinct feeling he’s being watched.
A pigtailed girl eating an oversized cookie from a paperboy that reads Mrs. Fields stops and stares at him, mouth agape.
His claws snap back into his hand and he adjusts his jacket as if he can tamp down his temper with that little adjustment. He turns away. She continues to stare.
“Boo,” growls.
The last bites of her cookie hit the floor as she books it back towards the food court. He winces a little.
Ⅳ. MANNEQUIN
Has he mentioned he hates this place? Probably. Before he think of a new way to say that, the feeling of being watched comes back to him. There’s no nosy children this time though. Just a lot of vacant expressions on mannequins wearing shit he can’t believe any one would pay money for.
Maybe it’s just the incessant hum of the fluorescent lights finally getting to him. He shakes it off and makes for the exit, but not sooner does he pass by another display window then he recognizes the faces staring back at him.
“Are they… they’re not real. Are they?” He taps on the glass.
Logan | Marvel 616 | OTA
As soon as the particular scent of floor wax, new plastic and a distance smack of Cinnabon washes over him Logan’s turning for the door only to find it’s not so quick to let him out as it was to let him in.
“You’re fucking kidding me…” he grumbles and rattles the thing again but no. It won’t budge. Not without force at least. Which absolutely crosses his mind as a next step. With a SNIKT his claws appear and he reels back like he’s prepared to make short work of that glass panel when he gets the distinct feeling he’s being watched.
A pigtailed girl eating an oversized cookie from a paperboy that reads Mrs. Fields stops and stares at him, mouth agape.
His claws snap back into his hand and he adjusts his jacket as if he can tamp down his temper with that little adjustment. He turns away. She continues to stare.
“Boo,” growls.
The last bites of her cookie hit the floor as she books it back towards the food court. He winces a little.
Ⅳ. MANNEQUIN
Has he mentioned he hates this place? Probably. Before he think of a new way to say that, the feeling of being watched comes back to him. There’s no nosy children this time though. Just a lot of vacant expressions on mannequins wearing shit he can’t believe any one would pay money for.
Maybe it’s just the incessant hum of the fluorescent lights finally getting to him. He shakes it off and makes for the exit, but not sooner does he pass by another display window then he recognizes the faces staring back at him.
“Are they… they’re not real. Are they?” He taps on the glass.