Logan shrugs a little. "Honestly, I don't remember what the Ferryman said. Last time we spoke, I wasn't convinced this whole place wasn't just a drunken stupor so I didn't take any notes," he mutters. More than the Ferryman, it's the words of the FlowerOracle that have stayed with him. Not that he can even say why, or that he feels any kind of confidence in her fortune telling. But it has stayed with him. "I dunno what we can change here. If anything. But I don't think it'll kill me to try something other than cutting my way out of a cage for a change."

Oh. Hand lotion. Right. That seems sort of familiar now that he thinks about it. Maybe he did know that was a thing. He throws Wrench an unamused little side-eye. "Nobody's lotioning my hands, thanks," he balks like the testy old introvert he is. It is the sort of thing he'd probably do to someone with a roar of a laugh after a few drinks though, so he can't blame the man for relishing the idea.

He swats the tall blond with the back of his hand and points a little ways past him. "Carhartt. Is that the one you said? I like it..."