18418/Reunion: Rien's Return

Reunion: Rien's Return
Date of Scene:	24 June 2024
Location:	Logan's Loft - Garage Apartment
Synopsis:	Logan gets a visit from his daughter from another time. She offers to help him with a dangerous foe from his distant past. He tries being a decent father.
Cast of Characters:	Rien D'Arqueness, Logan Howlett

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Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Rien is every bit as bad as Logan about up and disappearing. Going walkabout. She has a tendency to drift in and out of the 'family' orbit, but when she's around, she makes sure to make her presence known.

By this point, Logan can probably *smell* the magical notes that herald her teleportation arrival. And if not that, certainly her scent when she pops in. He'll certainly be able to smell the scent of his favorite brand of cigars, possibly even the scent of the six pack of his favorite beer. Rien is French, she never arrives empty-handed. It's a habit that Logan can appreciate since she never bothers with bringing 'frou-frou' stuff for him.

Their history is strange and tangled, involving time-and-multiversal travel that lead to her being in this world. The TVA even got involved for awhile, which lead to a decades-long estrangement between the pair, until more recently, when they cleared her for interaction once more. Now, now she swings by to say hello, reminisce over past adventures, catch up on the current goings on, and offer her assistance if needed.

"Logan? Is this a bad time?"

Logan Howlett has posed:
When it comes to Logan, damn near any time is a bad time. "Not any more than any other time," he grunts from a chair dragged over to a large window overlooking the mansion grounds. He sits with his usual ratty jeans and white sleeveless t-shirt and bare feet, one leg tucked under the chair and the other kicked out in front of him.

He lifts a beer bottle to his lips and pours the last remaining suds down his throat, shaking the bottle to notice its empty state. He sets it down on the floor beside him and glances over at Rien, having picked up the scent of the gifts she comes bearing. "Just ran outta beer, so maybe it's the best time."

When he turns to look at her, she might notice a still-healing scar in the center of his throat. Looks like he may have been stabbed and it just hasn't healed yet. Still looks better than his guts, but thankfully his shirt covers the scars there.

At the best of times, Logan is hardly friendly. At the worst, he's damn near mean as hell. Right now, he just seems tired. Physically? Mentally? All of it, maybe.

"Welcome back," he says as his gaze returns to the grounds outside his window.

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Laughing slowly, Rien nods and turns around so she's facing him, approaching easily and setting the beer down next to his chair, tossing the pack of cigars lightly onto his lap. Taking up a lean against the wall, she tucks a lock of hair behind one ear, watching him with those piercing blue eyes, sniffing lightly with that sensitive nose. Quirking half a smile at him, she nods, "Merci."

Her gaze drops to the still-healing mark on his throat, her head canting, "That looks even less pleasant than most of the wounds you sustain. Let me know if you want payback." She pulls out a cigarette case from her leather jacket, flipping it open to pluck one of her homerolled cigarettes out, tucking it between her lips, the tip flaring to life without benefit of lighter or even flame.

"So... I won't ask how you're doing. But if you have any stories you want to share, I've got a tale or two I can offer in exchange." Rien flashes a brief grin at him, then settles back in to smoke her cigarette.

Logan Howlett has posed:
The pack of cigars landing in his lap pulls his gaze back into the room. Just what he needed. Not that he would tell her that much. Instead, he thanks her with a simple grunt as he tears into the pack and pulls out one of the cigars. He brushes its length beneath his nose, inhaling the scent of the leaves inside. His eyes drift shut as the odor creeps into his nostrils and fills his senses.

After a lengthy exhale, he stuffs a finger into his pocket to fish out a zippo, feral gaze lifting towards Rien, "This ain't the fella you want to get involved with, darlin'." He flicks open the lighter and sparks it, holding it to the tip of the cigar so he can puff away on it until it finally ignites. With a twist of his wrist, the lighter snaps shut and it tossed a few feet onto the dining table, but it slides off and topples to the floor. Unconcerned, Logan glances back out the window, "Someone from the past." He takes a long drag, then lets a cloud of smoke drift from his throat, "Fuckin' psychopath."

Coming from a guy like Logan, that's sayin' somethin'.

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Watching Logan's little ritual with the cigar brings a small smile to her face, one that's gone by the time he looks back at her. She pulls on her own cigarette, the herbal scent of it light enough to not compete with the richer, fuller scent of his cigar. It's always nice to see a gift appreciated.

Rien lifts a brow at him and chuckles, "Sure about that? I am my father's daughter." She lets out a breath and glances out the window, looking over the yard of the school briefly, then back to him, "Besides. Can you honestly say this 'blast from the past' of yours would see *me* coming? I might be able to give you the edge you need." Rien lifts a shrug, "But, ultimately, your choice. I think we're long past the point of me trying to tell you to 'be careful' or 'stay safe'."

It isn't that she doesn't care, of course. But Logan knows how to handle himself, he knows his enemies, certainly better than she does. So Rien shows she cares by letting him make his own decisions, and not harping on him for them.

Logan Howlett has posed:
Ordinarily, the dynamic between Logan and one of his children is one of general discomfort. Hell, between Logan and anyone with a pulse, really. But with kids it's different entirely. Most of his kids aren't really his kids. Clones, what-have-ya. With Rien it's different. Maybe it's that she's from another time. Maybe it's that she cares just the right amount. There's a mutual respect.

Her bringing him gifts is enough to show that she gives a damn. He can see that. His way of showing that he cares right back is not wanting to see what happens to her if Cyber finds out she's his.

The thought of it bristles the hair on the back of his neck and his forearms. "This one's different." He watches Rien silently for a moment. As if he's deciding whether or not to fill her in. Shit. Cyber is clearly stalking him at this point. It's only a matter of time. If he can at least warn her about the lunatic, maybe she'll at least have a shot at dealing with him.

"My old drill instructor from the War." He pauses as he reaches for one of the beers that ien brought for him. Flipping the cap off with his thumb, he takes a pull before wiping his lips with the back of his hand, "Gets off on hurtin' people. And I mean really hurtin' people."

Eyes drift back to the window.

"Bastard hung me by my own guts. Heard him laughin' as I passed out."

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
"Which war? The one I came through during? A war before then? A war after then?" Rien perks up a little, not eager perse, but alert. She's not looking to rush out and confront him, just make sure she's well-informed if he comes looking. The war she came through was World War 2, seems she's trying to figure out if this Cyber is much older. If he's older than she is. Her age is strange. She's lived through the entirety of her original lifespan twice over, and then some.

She draws on her cigarette once more and gives a nod, lips pursing up, brows furrowing. "So, a sadist. And a psychopath. Good to know. Well!" SHe looks to Logan with a smile, "I'll certainly keep my head on swivel. But also.." Rien reaches into the pocket of her leather jacket, drawing out a small crystal. Leaning forward, she holds it out to him. "Panic button."

Waiting for him to take it, she continues, "If he shows up again, and you *want* backup, just break the crystal and I'll be right there. No pressure, no strings, no expectations. It's there if you need it." If he doesn't reach for it, she'll drop it on his dresser. He doesn't have to use it, but it will be there.

Logan Howlett has posed:
Right. When he just says 'the war' no one knows what the hell he's talking about. The war ended long enough that he should know it's ambiguous. But when you live through something like it, there's only one war.

"Right. World War 2."

"He's old. Don't know how old, exactly, but he's old." He takes another pull on his beer, letting the suds work their way down passed the scar tissue inside his throat, then lets out an audible 'ahh.'

When she offers the crystal, he glances up and accepts it from her. "Listen, I appreciate the offer, but I can't get you involved. He's too dangerous." His fingers close around the crystal and he simply holds on to it, resting his arm against his thigh.

"I don't get scared, darlin'." His eyes linger on the window and wrinkles gather between his brows, "He scares the hell outta me." His eyes flick up to her again as if to drive the point home. Then he's back on the window and taking another pull on the beer until he empties it, reaching for another. An uncharacteristic sigh escapes his throat, "Don't think I ain't appreciative. I am. I just can't get you involved. I don't want to think about what he'd do if he found out about you."

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
For her, it's just.. time. She's seen multiple wars, some of them repeated. It can be a pain trying to keep them all separate. But he clarifies and she nods, "Okay. So he's old. So are we." Rien quirks a faint half-smile at him before settling back in. And that's saying nothing of the war that was her entire life until she arrived in this timeline.

When he takes the crystal, she can't hide the pleased expression that flits across her face. At least, not soon enough for him to not notice. Still, but the time she straightens, her features are carefully neutral. "Logan... father. I appreciate that you want to keep me safe. But I was literally born to fight an unkillable demon, for eternity. An actual, from Hell, demon. I will be fine." Rien lets out a breath, "That doesn't mean that I won't be careful. Or that I'm asking to take the lead. I'm giving you *backup*. I can pull you out if and when he comes for you again. I can help you."

Watching him for a long moment, she pushes off the wall, approaching him even as she flicks the cigarette away and it disappears completely. Rien sets a hip on the arm of his chair and leans in, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and giving him a brief, tight hug. "Then I guess it's a good thing that I look nothing like you, and have powers I can tap into that have nothing to do with what I inherited from my father, hm?" She doesn't go full embarrassment by kissing his cheek, straightening after the hug and looking at him. "Like I said, it's your call in the end. But you know I can help. If you need it. Which is highly doubtful. You've always managed to come out on top, Logan. I expect you will here, too."

Logan Howlett has posed:
The brief flash of joy on her face as he accepts the crystal is noticed. Guilt touches him and spreads throughout his chest like a drop of blood in a glass of water. It spreads and disappears, but it's there. One drop doesn't make much of a difference. You put enough drops in there over time, the clear water gradually turns red before you realize it.

His mind wanders and stirs in the guilt until he feels the arms wrappin around his shoulders. He starts slightly, his body tensing up and shifting in his chair until he realizes what's happening. He slowly relaxes again, and manages to find the humor in his own reflexes. Or is it his own trauma at this point?

He reaches up and wraps his weathered fingers around her forearm and gives it a reassuring squeeze, resting his chin against her, "It's a damn good thing for you, darlin'." He manages to grin to himself, "Lookin' like me won't do you any favors."

"I'll keep it with me. Just in case," he says quietly. "Only use it if I have to."

He may have to. He may not be an unkillable demon, but he's the next worse thing.

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
She's not surprised that he startles easily, he's been distracted the whole visit. Rien chuckles silently and murmurs, "You know, I've done the same thing myself. Perhaps I'm more like you than we thought." Still, Rien gets her own thousand yard stare as she sets her chin lightly on the top of his head, her blonde locks flipped around to the other side so it's no in his way.

"I don't know, I still boggle trying to figure out how two people with dark hair and dark eyes ended up with a blonde-haired, blue-eyed child. Genetics are strange." She blinks away her own memories and flashes a quick grin at him as she straightens. "But standing out does come in handy sometimes. Nobody would ever expect us to be related. Element of surprise."

Nodding, Rien wears a small smile, "Only if you have to. No summoning the powerful magi just to take out your garbage or wash your Jeep. She might get testy over that." Chuckling softly, there's still a small squeeze given to his shoulder.

Pushing up to her feet, Rien smiles, "Well. Now that we've had a visit and I've embarrassed you as much as I'm willing to, I think I'll leave before either of our tempers gets strained. If I don't hear from you, I'll stop by again soon. I've had some interesting adventures, we can have a few drinks and swap stories." Because she's cognizant that they ARE alike, and prolonged exposure is likely to end in one of them rubbing the other one wrong. "I'll be in touch."

Logan Howlett has posed:
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say this whole thing is a long con for some inheritance cash," Logan says, a grin creeping across his dark face. He idly waves the bottle of beer in the air, vaguely gesturing around the room, "'fraid I don't own this place, though, so yer shit outta luck." He glances up at her as she rises and steps away, "Don't have much cash, either, so you picked the wrong mark, kid."

He offers her a wink before he pushes himself up from his chair, nodding at her, "Next time the bike needs a tune-up I know where to find you." He lifts his hand and turns the crystal around between his fingers before grasping it and stuffing it into his pocket, giving it a few pats.

"Appreciate the suds an' smokes."