[ The kid smells like sweat and the coppery sourness of adrenaline when it's run down to fumes. He figures she hasn't had a good night sleep in a while, pushing through her body's needs because she's too paranoid to sleep. Logan can understand that, though he wishes she'd chosen a different kind of expression than a bone bomb. He grunts, reaching up to pull needle-sharp bits of femur out of the side of his throat. ]
Yeah, well. That ain't exactly something I do very often.
[ He scrapes up the bloody shards and tosses them into the tub. ]
no subject
Yeah, well. That ain't exactly something I do very often.
[ He scrapes up the bloody shards and tosses them into the tub. ]
How'd you make the wards? Magic?