A Newspaper, a Latte, and a Terrorist

[pyro]

Their lead had turned up nothing. Pyro had gotten off surveillance duty early that morning and instead of going right to sleep and screwing up his sleep schedule even more, he'd opted for a caffeine fix to keep him awake for the rest of the day.

Cuppa Joe was a fairly popular café on the outskirts of the mutant neighborhoods. John had been there a couple of times before and knew that it was quiet, but busy enough that he wouldn't get recognized if he kept his head down.

Alone at a table by the window, the young terrorist sat comfortably with a vanilla latte and a copy of the New York Times. He was scanning the paper for mentions of himself or any of his teammates. He had to hold the paper up to see it because he was wearing a pair of large aviators to avoid recognition. He'd want a smoke soon, but for now, he was too comfortable to get up.

[Wolverine]

The air tasted like a pack of smokes waiting to happen. Wolverine needed a cigarette like his next breath of oxygen. He had spent the whole day trying to convince a 16-year-old mutant boy that no, the Bogeyman is not sleeping under his bed and no, your mom can't come periodically to give you clean underwear. Normally, he would tell the boy to make some major changes or there would be a good chance end up living with his parents until he was 47 and die a virgin. However, Professor Xavier had told him to be sensitive to the boy's delicate "condition." He couldn't understand why the professor wanted him to treat this pampered brat like a little kid. It seemed like his parents had already done a good job of that.

After hours of calming down the immature young man, Wolverine set off into the city to blow off some steam. It was too early to go to a bar. The only people there would be your standard hardcore drunks and Alcoholics Anonymous dropouts. He wasn't in the mood for watching someone get piss drunk. He decided to go to a random cafe, where he assumed there would be artsy fartsy people. It would also be a good place to go for a smoke. He ordered a cup of coffee, black, no sugar, no cream, and gulped it down. He took out a cigarette and looked for his lighter.

Damn it, he thought to himself. He had left it at the mansion. He turned to a person holding a copy of the New York Times. "Got a light?"

[pyro]

John's head snapped up at the question. It wasn't an unusual question to get from a stranger, but he knew that voice right away, and it certainly didn't belong to a stranger. His eyes went wide behind his aviators. The glasses were meant to discourage civilian recognition. They wouldn't fool the Wolverine. He'd lived at the school with the man, after all.

He fish-mouthed for a moment, trying to think of an appropriate response. Running was the first thing he could think of, but that would definitely draw attention. Instead, he decided to just play it cool as if he hadn't noticed. "Um, yeah," he agreed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a lighter. He watched the Wolverine warily.

[Wolverine]

He took the lighter and was about to light a cigarette when he noticed its distinctive shark pattern. He could recognize that lighter anywhere. He had gotten enough third degree burns by it to know it belonged to Pyro. Plus he had gotten pretty damn annoyed when the boy had kept clicking it on and off all day long as an X-men.

Logan put the lighter on the table, which was painted a sickly shade of piss green. "What the hell are you doing here, John? Are you getting so bored that you're following me?" he asked. He didn't really know why Pyro would be following him. He wasn't doing anything in particular. He had no connection to the serum nor Kavita Rao. Logan was just a very hairy man with an adamantium skeleton.

[pyro]

Snatching his lighter back quickly, John narrowed his eyes. "I'm not following you," he snapped. "If I was following you, you wouldn't know I was here. I'm just having some fucking coffee." He glanced around the coffee shop to make sure they weren't making a scene. He was exhausted and the last thing he needed was a big conflict.

John had actually like Wolverine when he lived with the X-Men. He was cool and didn't subscribe to most of the psychobabble emotional bullshit that the rest of them spouted. Now, though, he was one of the last people John should be talking to.

[Wolverine]

Though Pyro may have once thought Wolverine was cool, Logan never really liked him. He hadn't really hated John when Pyro was with the X-men. The boy just got on his nerves. John was some punk kid who thought he was better than everyone else. Wolverine wasn't very fond of many teenagers. Arrogant pyromaniacs didn't hold a place in his heart.

"Nice glasses," Logan retorted gruffly. He believed Pyro when he said that he wasn't following him. Pyro didn't have much reason to follow him. Though it looked like he was trying to blend in with a crowd (and was failing miserably at it), Pyro wasn't stupid. He would probably do a better job of tracking him than this if he wanted to.

[pyro]

Sneering at him, John pulled his glasses off and snorted. "Yeah, because you're a real fashionista. Who does your hair again?" He leaned back in his chair and frowned. "Well, you can at least bum me a smoke," he told Wolverine as if it were some great olive branch he was extending.

[Wolverine]

Rolling his eyes, he reached into his pocket. Logan took out his packet of smokes and handed a cigarette to John. He didn't like doing favors for assholes like Pyro, but the boy had been nice enough to give Wolverine temporary use of his lighter. Smoking etiquette dictated that Logan give him a cigarette. That was a given.

"Can I have the lighter back? I'm dying for a cigarette. This day has been fucking hell." He hadn't gotten a chance to smoke a cig yet, and he felt like he would go friggen apeshit if he didn't get one soon.

[pyro]

Pyro popped the cigarette between his lips and flipped open the lighter. After pulling off a small flame for himself, suspended above his index finger, he passed the lighter itself back to Logan. He lit the cigarette with his loose flame and took in a long drag.

"What? Trouble in paradise over at Xavier's School for Gifted Bullshit?" he snorted. He looked down at the paper. "I heard the great cripple himself is back from the dead."

[Wolverine]

Taking the cigarette lighter into his coarse hands, he put a cigarette to his thin lips and took a long, hard drag into his lungs. There was an advantage to being an immortal. No lung cancer for him and all the guilt-free cigs he wanted for eternity. He had become an easy target for Lady Nicotine, and she had reeled him in like a goddamn tilapia.

"And I heard Old Man Buckethead's back. Tell me, are you the one who kisses his ass at night or cleans his wrinkly balls? Because my best guess is you have ball duty." he asked. Everyone knew that Pyro was huge suck-up when it came to Magneto. He followed him around like wide-eyed puppy dog. If Magneto told him to jump off a cliff, he'd ask which cliff and what should the attire be at my funeral?

[pyro]

Taking his cigarette out of his mouth and balancing it between his fingers delicately, Pyro shook his head with a look of mock earnestness. "Oh, no," he corrected with exaggerated conviction, "I'm the one that bends over and takes it from him. Toad gets ball duty. The tongue gives him better reach." He stuck out his tongue in demonstration before his facade cracked and he snickered. He always did like going for the shock value.

"Now, pray tell, who gives the cripple his sponge baths these days? Does Scott still do it or do they let you sometimes?" he shot back. Yes, he served a master, but his loyalty to Magneto was no more pathetic than the X-Men's dedication to Xavier. At least Magneto gave him privacy within his own thoughts.

[Wolverine]

Honestly, a boy sticking out his tongue and talking about licking balls wasn't going to phase him. He was Wolverine, not the FCC. He was from Canada and spent time living where a flushing toilet was considered a luxury.

"Great comeback. Very original," he replied. "Got any other zingers?" He took another puff of his cig. He didn't really feel like talking to this asshole. He had spent enough time talking to idiot teenagers today. Today's jackass 15-year-old, tomorrow's world leaders, he thought to himself. He paused. Well, maybe not this one.

[pyro]

John rolled his eyes, not really interested in bickering with Hair-and-Claws. He took another suck on his cigarette, watching Wolverine before motioning to the chair across from him. "Well? Are you gonna sit down or just keep standing around like an asshole?" he deadpanned, acting like he couldn't care less what Logan did. Honestly, he didn't mind the company, even if he didn't really like him.

[Wolverine]

As much as Pyro didn't feel like arguing with Wolverine, Logan had no desire to argue with John. He also had no desire to make nice with him. The boy was bad news. Wolverine wasn't one to make small talk with adolescent Brotherhood members. He quickly finished his coffee, drinking it to the last flavorful drop.

"No thanks. I think I'm going to leave now."

With that, he made his way to the exit. He was glad he was finally gone. Well, that was certainly unsatisfying, he thought to himself.

[Quickdraw]

Hey, is that the Wolverine guy?, thought Marcy as she entered the cafe. She had never really met him in person, but she knew who he was. In truth, she had a lot of respect for him. Like her, he was an excellent hunter, and she bet he knew his way around weaponry. However, she heard he was all hung around this one chick. That was his mistake. If she were him, she'd just forget about it. She'd never let herself get hung up about a guy.

She walked up to the counter and stared at the options for drinks. The selections made her head spin. It was true that there were tons of trendy cafes in her home state of Massachusetts, but she never really went there.

"Uh, can I have a coffee?" she asked.

The adolescent employee at the counter rose his eyebrow. He looked at her like she was the biggest idiot in the world. "What kind of coffee? A cappuccino, a frappuccino, a latte, an expresso, a -- "

"Yeah, that sounds good," she answered.

"What sounds good?" he replied.

"Um, the last thing you said."

"What size?"

"Small."

"We don't have small. Our sizes are --"

"JUST GIVE ME THE DAMN COFFEE!"

The boy began to shake and nodded. In seconds, she received what appeared to be coffee or some kind coffee-like beverage. She sat at a table near a teenage boy holding a shark lighter.