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I am dumb and forgot to post. After Mariko's funeral, Shiro is back in the States briefly, and Logan comes to offer him the solace that a warrior requires. Shiro starts to find peace again.
Too much talking. Shiro had talked to Leyu, to Ororo, to Alex, to Charles . . . not to Clarice yet, because that was just too much to accept right now. Shiro just wanted to be. He craved normalcy. He'd have loved some DDR or some Tekken, but five minutes of playing and he had to get up and leave. Too twitchy to do any one thing for long.
He was aimlessly walking down the classroom corridor when Artie found him and informed him that Logan was looking for him. At least Logan wasn't one to talk. So he thanked Artie and went out to the back where he'd been told that Logan was waiting.
"What are you doing?" he asked roughly as the burning incense reached his nose.
Logan didn't turn to face Shiro right away. Instead, he slowly stood up, brushing a few errant specs of dirt off of his white pants. "I thought that your cousin would appreciate some good joss on her journey." he said, turning to Shiro so he could see one of the aforementioned smoldering joss sticks. "She was, in her own way, as much samurai-ko as any warrior." Logan had done some quick checking.
"~I bet she would appreciate that~," Shiro replied coldly, his language noticeably more distant and formal than usual. He folded his arms over his chest. "You needn't concern yourself with her, though."
"~I am less concerned with her than I am with you.~" he replied in slightly old-fashioned Japanese. He also had a fairly atrocious Okinawan accent to boot. "Nothing wrong with honoring the fallen." he pointed out.
"~She has been honored~," said Shiro, noticing how Logan spoke, "~As a woman befitting her status. Anything further is gratuitous and ought to be avoided.~"
Logan nodded - almost a fractional bow - to Shiro. He did, however, turn around and plant the joss stick into the ground to join its brothers in wishing a departed spirit good luck in the afterlife. He looked at Shiro, smelled the air, and then came to a decision. "~Are you free this evening, Shiro-san?~" he asked politely.
The honorific made Shiro raise his eyebrow. Great, Logan did want to talk. But he wouldn't be rude and just refuse whatever Logan was offering. Not without seeing what he wanted, at least. "~I suppose. Why do you ask?~"
"You just made full team, did you not?" he asked in English. "Good enough reason for a night of celebration, neh? And after your trip to Nippon, you could use a celebration."
"Celebrate?" Shiro found himself clenching his fists so tightly that he was leaving little crescent moon marks on his palms. "What is there to celebrate?" he asked. Though some revelry might help him forget and find normalcy again. "Sumimasen. Yes, let us. Where?"
"Success?" Logan suggested. "A goal met? And leave that up to me. Meet me at seven PM in the Garage." he said, sketching another brief bow.
Shiro offered a brief bow in return. "Ja ne." Oh, he was going to get from Clarice for celebrating at this time.
~*~
Logan was in the garage by six-thirty, checking out one of the flashier of the Mansion's sets of wheels. Something nice and fast. He made a mental bet with himself that Shiro wouldn't show at all, or if he did show, he'd have Clarice in tow. And while he had nothing against the purple girl, her non-stop chatter and glitter obsession were a little much for his liking. This was something between men. He knew that much about Japan. With luck, he'd get the boy to be able to unwind a bit, maybe get some of it off his chest. He certainly needed it, and in a moment of black humor he wondered if Jeannie would get pissed about her position as Mansion angstpuppy de jour being usurped.
Shiro was very much not being an angstpuppy. He'd spoken to the people who needed to be spoken to (mostly), he was keeping it from people who didn't need to know or wouldn't care, and was generally not making a nuisance of himself. There was no reason to dump his problems on anyone else. And besides, he was samurai (again, not ronin anymore). He'd done his mourning, and that was that.
He entered the garage promptly at 7, alone, clad in jeans and his Xavier's hoodie despite the warm New York evening. He nodded to Logan and joined him over by the car he'd chosen.
"Ah, Shiro-san! Good!" he said, opening the door for the kid. He looked a little better - that was good - but his scent was still spiky and all over the place. "It's not far." he said, kicking the car into gear once Shiro was situated inside.
Logan was a more confident driver than Clarice, but just as fast and reckless. It was all Shiro could do to not cling to the seat or his seatbelt. "Where did you learn to drive?" he asked, ready to blast through the inevitable wreckage if Logan continued at this pace.
"I have no idea." he said honestly. It was, distressingly, his default answer to most questions along those lines. Sadly enough, there was no wreckage to be blasted through and Logan pulled them into a small out-of-the-way place in the city. "Come on, kid. You'll like this place. Little slice of home, just without the people trying to fuck with you and yours."
Shiro snorted as he stepped out of the car. "They are everywhere." Whether he was referring to Hand or Yakuza wasn't said. Hell, for all Shiro knew, he was talking about both. "It would not be Japan without them."
"Yeah it would." he said, but why he couldn't exactly say. "Never mind. C'mon, kid." he said and escorted Shiro inside. The interior of the place, save for the nearly-obscene by Japanese standards use of space, could have been ripped straight out of downtown Osaka. Logan made his way over to the bar and waved for Shiro to take a seat.
"I don't drink," Shiro informed Logan as he pulled himself up onto a stool. He wouldn't admit to having poor tolerance, of course, as that would be unmanly. As would not imbibing. "Much." Because obviously the amendment is necessary.
"You're Japanese." Logan pointed out unnecessarily. "And I don't know about you but I'm hungry." He ordered a gigantic dragon boat of sushi from the man behind the counter, who proceeded to prepare it right in front of them. The crowd in the place was light, and Logan was the only Caucasian in the place. Oddly, nobody seemed to mind too much. He also ordered a bottle of sake - a very, very good year of sake - with two of the traditional shallow bowls used for drinking it.
Logan had Shiro at BIG BOAT OF SUSHI. Far from a chef himself, Shiro could at least tell that the quality of the fish was superb. His mouth started to water. "~Why did I not know this place exists?~" he asked rhetorically, his language still formal.
"~You never asked?~" he replied in his accented Japanese. He poured Shiro and himself some sake to at least get their throats wet on the good stuff before the food was finished. The chef had excellent knife skills, Logan noted idly as he drained his first bowl of sake. "Ahhh." he said, savoring the all-too-brief burn down his throat.
"~Did you use to come here often, before you left for Canada~?" Shiro asked after bracing himself and downing his drink. Not much of a drinker either, he did like the taste. Not at all thick and bitter like other alcohols.
"Occasionally." he said in English. "Not too often. Not the kinda place I could drag Marie out to, ya know?" he said, making an expansive gesture with his free hand. "Too Eastern."
"~You and Marie . . .~" Shiro said thoughtfully, finding it easier to just speak in Japanese. "~Has she slapped you too, yet? I heard about Doug . . .~"
Logan laughed at that. "She knows better." he said. "Things are ... weird, but they're not bad." he admitted. ~For such a monumental loss of face and honor on my part...~ he mused in Japanese.
Shiro poured the two of them another drink and then raised his bowl in a self-deprecating toast. "~To women. The cause of many of life's problems . . . Even in my limited experience.~"
~Cause of and solution for.~ Logan amended, then drank. ~And at least you remember your experience.~ Finally, the sushi boat was just about ready to sail. It was truly enormous - perhaps three feet long or so, every inch of the decking coated in various cuts and styles of sushi. "Enjoy, kid." he told Shiro before picking up a pair of chopsticks for himself.
Shiro poured some soy sauce for himself, mixed in some wasabi, and dipped a slice of salmon into it. "~Do you call everybody 'kid'? I am an adult by this country's standards, and almost by Japan's. I may be younger than y . . . how old are you anyway?~"
Logan just looked at Shiro. "~I got no idea, kid. None whatsoever. It's impossible to tell.~" he said, then snatched up a piece of sushi for himself. "~My memory starts about fifteen years ago, up Canada way. Stark-naked in a howling blizzard, crazier than anyone should ever be. That's my first memory.~"
"~Nothing at all?~" Shiro couldn't comprehend that. No memory, no sense of self, no identity . . . "~What have you discovered about yourself? Anything?~
"~I got claws?~" he said with a small grin. "~I like fighting. Pretty sure that one's me and not some implant or something.~" he said. "~Other than that, not much, kid. Most of what I do know I know because I experimented. Or it just comes natural.~"
"~You know, you speak like an Okinawan~," Shiro informed him, offering himself a third bowl of sake. "~Was Japan before or after your memories start?~"
"~I've never been there that I can recall, so I'd have to say before.~" he said around bits of sushi and drinks of sake. "~Burns you up, doesn't it? All that shit with your cousin and your family.~"
Maybe it was the sake talking, but Shiro didn't mind the change in topic as much as he thought he would. He might tomorrow morning, though. "~That is one way to put it. I obviously was not 'burnt up' enough, else she would still be alive.~"
"~You think you could have saved her?~" he asked, refilling Shiro's sake bowl for him. This was a conversation he had to have, lest he just sit on it and cram it into the dark corner somewhere in his head. "~Just you, your sister, and your girlfriend against two of the oldest and biggest criminal organizations in all Japan? Ever heard of the expression biting off more than you can chew?~"
Shiro didn't realize how agitated he was by Logan's comment until his bowl of soy sauce started to boil. He took a deep breath, pulling everything back in, and exhaled before he continued. "~There were four of them against Clarice and me. One of whom I dispatched early. I may not be near your level, but I am certainly competent enough to have handled it better.~" He paused, eyeing the sake bottle and deciding whether he ought to take a fourth. "I could have at least killed Hideki myself."
"~To what end?~" Logan asked calmly.
"~Personal, selfish satisfaction~," Shiro admitted. "~Harada saved me, and I would be indebted to him if Onee-san had not asked on her deathbed that we forget our pasts and start anew.~"
"~You're thinking too small. Think bigger.~" Logan suggested. "~Say you drop Hideki yourself and get out of Japan alive. What then?~"
"~I am sure that they have already marked me~," Shiro said, unwilling to name The Hand out loud in a restaurant filled with Japanese people. "~So if you are suggesting that they would be trying to kill me, then I doubt that it really makes much difference.~"
"~You're not the one I would be concerned for.~" Logan said diplomatically. "~You attend two schools, you have living blood relatives and a woman you've chosen to involve yourself with.~"
Shiro pondered over a tamago nigiri. "~Like I said. My direct involvement ultimately does not matter. I was there, and now danger spreads like the plague. Being the one responsible would just make me feel better.~"
"~Because then you could say "Yes, it's my fault." and believe it.~" Logan theorized.
Shiro bit his lip and nodded. All this anger, blame, and guilt, and no where to put it. He'd been spending too much time with Cyclops.
Logan laughed then, and then took another bowl of sake. "~At least you're getting it out.~" he told Shiro and then saluted him with his chopsticks.
The soy sauce was boiling again. "~This is not a laughing matter! How dare you belittle me.~"
"~Do you think I'm belittling you by bringing you here, feeding you, offering you drink, and listening to you? Strange notions you have.~" Logan mused. "~You need some way to talk and still keep face. When we walk through those doors nothing said here will have ever happened. You know this!~"
"~Saving face is hardly a concern right now. I am more concerned with this burning desire to fly back to Japan, find Tsurayaba Matsu'o, and reduce him to dust.~" One of the sushi chefs from the behind the bar yelped as his knife cut his finger. He must have heard Shiro speak that name. But he didn't care. "~It would be simple, too. If Clarice would not teleport me, then Onee-san left me enough to buy my own international airline, and I doubt that Harada would hesitate to find Tsurayaba for me.~"
"~You kill him, and in retaliation everyone who bears a scrap of Yashida blood, everyone you care about, goes down. Hard. That what you want?~" Logan asked, then paused for a moment to think. "~Tell you what. Going it alone is stupid, I don't care how much power you think you have. Give it some time to cool, to get your degree and lower your visibility, and I'll go with you.~"
That was about the last thing Shiro was expecting to hear. And truth be told, he wasn't even entirely sure if he really meant it. It was mostly out of anger, he knew, but there was still some honest desire to go through with it. "~Really?~"
"~Do I joke?~" Logan asked. "~Yes, really. If you're serious - if you're a man and not some hotheaded little boy - then I'll back you. But you'd better by fuck have a plan and some idea of what you want to do, otherwise you're just wasting my time and yours.~"
The thought actually made Shiro feel a little queasy. Though there was honesty behind the bravado, the thought of it behind more than just an impulse was, well, unsettling. But maybe that was Logan's plan, to call him out on it so he wouldn't act like a complete idiot. "~Understood~," he replied simply.
"~And if you fuck this up, people die. Maybe you, maybe me, maybe Leyu or Clarice. So just _think_ before you do anything.~" Logan warned. "Enough of this serious shit. Enjoy! Eat! Drink!" he said, and proceeded to do just that.
Too much talking. Shiro had talked to Leyu, to Ororo, to Alex, to Charles . . . not to Clarice yet, because that was just too much to accept right now. Shiro just wanted to be. He craved normalcy. He'd have loved some DDR or some Tekken, but five minutes of playing and he had to get up and leave. Too twitchy to do any one thing for long.
He was aimlessly walking down the classroom corridor when Artie found him and informed him that Logan was looking for him. At least Logan wasn't one to talk. So he thanked Artie and went out to the back where he'd been told that Logan was waiting.
"What are you doing?" he asked roughly as the burning incense reached his nose.
Logan didn't turn to face Shiro right away. Instead, he slowly stood up, brushing a few errant specs of dirt off of his white pants. "I thought that your cousin would appreciate some good joss on her journey." he said, turning to Shiro so he could see one of the aforementioned smoldering joss sticks. "She was, in her own way, as much samurai-ko as any warrior." Logan had done some quick checking.
"~I bet she would appreciate that~," Shiro replied coldly, his language noticeably more distant and formal than usual. He folded his arms over his chest. "You needn't concern yourself with her, though."
"~I am less concerned with her than I am with you.~" he replied in slightly old-fashioned Japanese. He also had a fairly atrocious Okinawan accent to boot. "Nothing wrong with honoring the fallen." he pointed out.
"~She has been honored~," said Shiro, noticing how Logan spoke, "~As a woman befitting her status. Anything further is gratuitous and ought to be avoided.~"
Logan nodded - almost a fractional bow - to Shiro. He did, however, turn around and plant the joss stick into the ground to join its brothers in wishing a departed spirit good luck in the afterlife. He looked at Shiro, smelled the air, and then came to a decision. "~Are you free this evening, Shiro-san?~" he asked politely.
The honorific made Shiro raise his eyebrow. Great, Logan did want to talk. But he wouldn't be rude and just refuse whatever Logan was offering. Not without seeing what he wanted, at least. "~I suppose. Why do you ask?~"
"You just made full team, did you not?" he asked in English. "Good enough reason for a night of celebration, neh? And after your trip to Nippon, you could use a celebration."
"Celebrate?" Shiro found himself clenching his fists so tightly that he was leaving little crescent moon marks on his palms. "What is there to celebrate?" he asked. Though some revelry might help him forget and find normalcy again. "Sumimasen. Yes, let us. Where?"
"Success?" Logan suggested. "A goal met? And leave that up to me. Meet me at seven PM in the Garage." he said, sketching another brief bow.
Shiro offered a brief bow in return. "Ja ne." Oh, he was going to get from Clarice for celebrating at this time.
~*~
Logan was in the garage by six-thirty, checking out one of the flashier of the Mansion's sets of wheels. Something nice and fast. He made a mental bet with himself that Shiro wouldn't show at all, or if he did show, he'd have Clarice in tow. And while he had nothing against the purple girl, her non-stop chatter and glitter obsession were a little much for his liking. This was something between men. He knew that much about Japan. With luck, he'd get the boy to be able to unwind a bit, maybe get some of it off his chest. He certainly needed it, and in a moment of black humor he wondered if Jeannie would get pissed about her position as Mansion angstpuppy de jour being usurped.
Shiro was very much not being an angstpuppy. He'd spoken to the people who needed to be spoken to (mostly), he was keeping it from people who didn't need to know or wouldn't care, and was generally not making a nuisance of himself. There was no reason to dump his problems on anyone else. And besides, he was samurai (again, not ronin anymore). He'd done his mourning, and that was that.
He entered the garage promptly at 7, alone, clad in jeans and his Xavier's hoodie despite the warm New York evening. He nodded to Logan and joined him over by the car he'd chosen.
"Ah, Shiro-san! Good!" he said, opening the door for the kid. He looked a little better - that was good - but his scent was still spiky and all over the place. "It's not far." he said, kicking the car into gear once Shiro was situated inside.
Logan was a more confident driver than Clarice, but just as fast and reckless. It was all Shiro could do to not cling to the seat or his seatbelt. "Where did you learn to drive?" he asked, ready to blast through the inevitable wreckage if Logan continued at this pace.
"I have no idea." he said honestly. It was, distressingly, his default answer to most questions along those lines. Sadly enough, there was no wreckage to be blasted through and Logan pulled them into a small out-of-the-way place in the city. "Come on, kid. You'll like this place. Little slice of home, just without the people trying to fuck with you and yours."
Shiro snorted as he stepped out of the car. "They are everywhere." Whether he was referring to Hand or Yakuza wasn't said. Hell, for all Shiro knew, he was talking about both. "It would not be Japan without them."
"Yeah it would." he said, but why he couldn't exactly say. "Never mind. C'mon, kid." he said and escorted Shiro inside. The interior of the place, save for the nearly-obscene by Japanese standards use of space, could have been ripped straight out of downtown Osaka. Logan made his way over to the bar and waved for Shiro to take a seat.
"I don't drink," Shiro informed Logan as he pulled himself up onto a stool. He wouldn't admit to having poor tolerance, of course, as that would be unmanly. As would not imbibing. "Much." Because obviously the amendment is necessary.
"You're Japanese." Logan pointed out unnecessarily. "And I don't know about you but I'm hungry." He ordered a gigantic dragon boat of sushi from the man behind the counter, who proceeded to prepare it right in front of them. The crowd in the place was light, and Logan was the only Caucasian in the place. Oddly, nobody seemed to mind too much. He also ordered a bottle of sake - a very, very good year of sake - with two of the traditional shallow bowls used for drinking it.
Logan had Shiro at BIG BOAT OF SUSHI. Far from a chef himself, Shiro could at least tell that the quality of the fish was superb. His mouth started to water. "~Why did I not know this place exists?~" he asked rhetorically, his language still formal.
"~You never asked?~" he replied in his accented Japanese. He poured Shiro and himself some sake to at least get their throats wet on the good stuff before the food was finished. The chef had excellent knife skills, Logan noted idly as he drained his first bowl of sake. "Ahhh." he said, savoring the all-too-brief burn down his throat.
"~Did you use to come here often, before you left for Canada~?" Shiro asked after bracing himself and downing his drink. Not much of a drinker either, he did like the taste. Not at all thick and bitter like other alcohols.
"Occasionally." he said in English. "Not too often. Not the kinda place I could drag Marie out to, ya know?" he said, making an expansive gesture with his free hand. "Too Eastern."
"~You and Marie . . .~" Shiro said thoughtfully, finding it easier to just speak in Japanese. "~Has she slapped you too, yet? I heard about Doug . . .~"
Logan laughed at that. "She knows better." he said. "Things are ... weird, but they're not bad." he admitted. ~For such a monumental loss of face and honor on my part...~ he mused in Japanese.
Shiro poured the two of them another drink and then raised his bowl in a self-deprecating toast. "~To women. The cause of many of life's problems . . . Even in my limited experience.~"
~Cause of and solution for.~ Logan amended, then drank. ~And at least you remember your experience.~ Finally, the sushi boat was just about ready to sail. It was truly enormous - perhaps three feet long or so, every inch of the decking coated in various cuts and styles of sushi. "Enjoy, kid." he told Shiro before picking up a pair of chopsticks for himself.
Shiro poured some soy sauce for himself, mixed in some wasabi, and dipped a slice of salmon into it. "~Do you call everybody 'kid'? I am an adult by this country's standards, and almost by Japan's. I may be younger than y . . . how old are you anyway?~"
Logan just looked at Shiro. "~I got no idea, kid. None whatsoever. It's impossible to tell.~" he said, then snatched up a piece of sushi for himself. "~My memory starts about fifteen years ago, up Canada way. Stark-naked in a howling blizzard, crazier than anyone should ever be. That's my first memory.~"
"~Nothing at all?~" Shiro couldn't comprehend that. No memory, no sense of self, no identity . . . "~What have you discovered about yourself? Anything?~
"~I got claws?~" he said with a small grin. "~I like fighting. Pretty sure that one's me and not some implant or something.~" he said. "~Other than that, not much, kid. Most of what I do know I know because I experimented. Or it just comes natural.~"
"~You know, you speak like an Okinawan~," Shiro informed him, offering himself a third bowl of sake. "~Was Japan before or after your memories start?~"
"~I've never been there that I can recall, so I'd have to say before.~" he said around bits of sushi and drinks of sake. "~Burns you up, doesn't it? All that shit with your cousin and your family.~"
Maybe it was the sake talking, but Shiro didn't mind the change in topic as much as he thought he would. He might tomorrow morning, though. "~That is one way to put it. I obviously was not 'burnt up' enough, else she would still be alive.~"
"~You think you could have saved her?~" he asked, refilling Shiro's sake bowl for him. This was a conversation he had to have, lest he just sit on it and cram it into the dark corner somewhere in his head. "~Just you, your sister, and your girlfriend against two of the oldest and biggest criminal organizations in all Japan? Ever heard of the expression biting off more than you can chew?~"
Shiro didn't realize how agitated he was by Logan's comment until his bowl of soy sauce started to boil. He took a deep breath, pulling everything back in, and exhaled before he continued. "~There were four of them against Clarice and me. One of whom I dispatched early. I may not be near your level, but I am certainly competent enough to have handled it better.~" He paused, eyeing the sake bottle and deciding whether he ought to take a fourth. "I could have at least killed Hideki myself."
"~To what end?~" Logan asked calmly.
"~Personal, selfish satisfaction~," Shiro admitted. "~Harada saved me, and I would be indebted to him if Onee-san had not asked on her deathbed that we forget our pasts and start anew.~"
"~You're thinking too small. Think bigger.~" Logan suggested. "~Say you drop Hideki yourself and get out of Japan alive. What then?~"
"~I am sure that they have already marked me~," Shiro said, unwilling to name The Hand out loud in a restaurant filled with Japanese people. "~So if you are suggesting that they would be trying to kill me, then I doubt that it really makes much difference.~"
"~You're not the one I would be concerned for.~" Logan said diplomatically. "~You attend two schools, you have living blood relatives and a woman you've chosen to involve yourself with.~"
Shiro pondered over a tamago nigiri. "~Like I said. My direct involvement ultimately does not matter. I was there, and now danger spreads like the plague. Being the one responsible would just make me feel better.~"
"~Because then you could say "Yes, it's my fault." and believe it.~" Logan theorized.
Shiro bit his lip and nodded. All this anger, blame, and guilt, and no where to put it. He'd been spending too much time with Cyclops.
Logan laughed then, and then took another bowl of sake. "~At least you're getting it out.~" he told Shiro and then saluted him with his chopsticks.
The soy sauce was boiling again. "~This is not a laughing matter! How dare you belittle me.~"
"~Do you think I'm belittling you by bringing you here, feeding you, offering you drink, and listening to you? Strange notions you have.~" Logan mused. "~You need some way to talk and still keep face. When we walk through those doors nothing said here will have ever happened. You know this!~"
"~Saving face is hardly a concern right now. I am more concerned with this burning desire to fly back to Japan, find Tsurayaba Matsu'o, and reduce him to dust.~" One of the sushi chefs from the behind the bar yelped as his knife cut his finger. He must have heard Shiro speak that name. But he didn't care. "~It would be simple, too. If Clarice would not teleport me, then Onee-san left me enough to buy my own international airline, and I doubt that Harada would hesitate to find Tsurayaba for me.~"
"~You kill him, and in retaliation everyone who bears a scrap of Yashida blood, everyone you care about, goes down. Hard. That what you want?~" Logan asked, then paused for a moment to think. "~Tell you what. Going it alone is stupid, I don't care how much power you think you have. Give it some time to cool, to get your degree and lower your visibility, and I'll go with you.~"
That was about the last thing Shiro was expecting to hear. And truth be told, he wasn't even entirely sure if he really meant it. It was mostly out of anger, he knew, but there was still some honest desire to go through with it. "~Really?~"
"~Do I joke?~" Logan asked. "~Yes, really. If you're serious - if you're a man and not some hotheaded little boy - then I'll back you. But you'd better by fuck have a plan and some idea of what you want to do, otherwise you're just wasting my time and yours.~"
The thought actually made Shiro feel a little queasy. Though there was honesty behind the bravado, the thought of it behind more than just an impulse was, well, unsettling. But maybe that was Logan's plan, to call him out on it so he wouldn't act like a complete idiot. "~Understood~," he replied simply.
"~And if you fuck this up, people die. Maybe you, maybe me, maybe Leyu or Clarice. So just _think_ before you do anything.~" Logan warned. "Enough of this serious shit. Enjoy! Eat! Drink!" he said, and proceeded to do just that.