4173/A Cabin Escape

A Cabin Escape
Date of Scene:	19 November 2020
Location:	Logan's Cabin
Synopsis:	Peggy comes to see Logan's private cabin and bothers him about opening up over lost memories.
Cast of Characters:	Logan Howlett, Peggy Carter

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Logan Howlett has posed:
The small cabin in the wilderness of the Xavier estate has much in common with its occupant. Rough yet sturdy. He built it himself from the raw materials around him, evinced in mossy tree stumps that circle the edge of the clearing. It's a slight trek to get here, the roads end a few miles away and one must walk through some well-trodden paths lined by trees and at times flanked by the still lake.

Despite the cool weather, Logan can be found outside the cabin. He kneels on the ground, hands rested palm-down on his thighs. His eyes are closed, and his breathing is slow and steady. After a moment, however, one blue eye opens followed swiftly by the other.

Peggy Carter has posed:
While he'd told her about this place a bit ago, Peggy had never actually made her way there yet. Possibly out of some attempt to respect his space, possibly because it was a good hike out of the city by car and then farther by foot and she's simply been too busy. Either way, it's not a place she haunts. Until today.

She's dressed for the weather and the knowledge she was going to be walking a few miles sans car, so she looks a little more like she did when they were stationed in eastern Europe instead of her usual fall, city finery. Wild legged brown slacks with her matching leather bomber jacket and a pair of combat boots carry her easily across uneven terrain as she hoists a heavy military duffle across her shoulder. A smile cracks across her lips as she moves closer, catching sight of him outside the little cabin.

"I heard an old man lives here who scares all the naughty children away if they throws their balls too far into the woods."

Logan Howlett has posed:
"Hngh," Logan grunts from his meditative position, keeping his vision fixed forward. After a long, still moment he climbs slowly to his admittedly diminutive height. He reaches down to dust off the front of the faded jeans he wears, letting his head loll back to take in the scent of the woods around them. Satisfied, he lifts the flannel button down from where it was discarded nearby and dons it once more.

"You're too late," he replies in a low, gravelly voice, "I sold your frisbee on eBay."

Peggy Carter has posed:
"Oh *tosh*. You're too old to post on eBay." Peggy teases him gently, though she was quiet enough as he finished his meditation. She's respectful of that sort of space, when he takes it. She always has been. Now, however, she crosses through the winter-dying high grass between them, still comfortably carrying that heavy looking duffle, as if she'd packed for a long mountain camping hike.

"And I also don't think children even *use* frisbees any more. Or pogo sticks. In fact, I'm not certain *what* they use, nowadays but I'm sure it's probably got some sort of drone or motor attached."

Then she's within two feet of him, just enough to be standing inside his personal space. She doesn't reach to touch him yet, but that enigmatic smile remains a bit more warm on her matte red lips. "Do I intrude?"

Logan Howlett has posed:
"Hula hoops? What about those little wooden horses on a string?"

Logan pauses for a moment, and somewhere in the shattered mirror of his mind he spies the briefest reflection of ... something. A wooden horse on a string, at the foot of a four-post bed in a dark room in some cavernous manor. Outside, the grounds are layered in snow. Somewhere, a dog barks shrilly and wildly. Then it's gone. He dismisses it with the faintest shake of his head.

"Never intrude," he tells her, as though suddenly discovering her closer than he'd thought, "Hi."

He raises himself just slightly, given their height differential from his lack of shoes, to kiss her faintly on the lips. He doesn't draw back immediately, letting his hand rest on the small of her back.

"The hike didn't give you trouble?"

Peggy Carter has posed:
The kiss brings a bit more of a smile to her and Peggy gently returns it, letting her free hand come across to rest against his chest. She sinks comfortably into that space between them, the meat of his hand against her back an easy, familiar warmth. Her head tilts a hint, dark eyes narrowed, like she saw something behind his eyes there but isn't quite certain it's territory she should intrude on. Yet.

Then he asks about that hike and that just gets a *smirk* from her. "Yes, two miles in Westchester is the thing that will kill me. Not the twenty we did on the Russian boarder." Peg's breath huffs in a bit of a chuckle, "It was nice to get out, in truth. I forget the city isn't the only part of this world some days."

Logan Howlett has posed:
"It's only fair to ask," he replies with a smirk, enjoying the closeness in the moment, "You're pushing a hundred at this point. Maybe a leisurely stroll in blue-blood country is too much."

The grin on Logan's lips betrays the joke, and he chuckles to himself. His bare feet shift slightly, yet somehow don't disturb the clutter of dead leaves that carpet the clearing.

"Want a drink?"

Peggy Carter has posed:
Her hand comes down to swat at his hip as he comments on her age, a little, teasing betrayal behind her eyes. "I don't see you looking much fresher faced than I am, and I've still been in the field most this time. Give me a mountainside and no clean water and we'll talk about what's too much." Peggy chuckles, but she balls her hand into the side of his flannel and pulls him a bit closer, into a deeper kiss this time. Happy to see him. Happy to be accepted to this private, remote place.

"...Drink would be lovely. Especially if you don't mind telling me where you went a few minutes ago. Over the wooden horse. Because I know you weren't here..." Peggy prompts gently, her voice softer now. This wasn't a tease, but a tentative exploration of concern. Curiosity.

"Either way. Inside. It's warmer and I can put this bag down."

Logan Howlett has posed:
"Just another thread," Logan sighs, stepping off to lead the way into the cabin itself, "A loose one. Can't quite draw the connection yet."

There's a simmering frustration in his words, and his muscles tense beneath his skin. For all the good the meditation did, the stress of the world comes flooding back with the transient memory.

"Don't worry about it."

As they step into the cabin, the austere way in which Logan lives can be seen. Bare walls, save for one that sports a shelf lined with small, ceramic vases and a miniature torii gate - a kamidana, a form of Shinto worship. As they step inside, Logan moves away from Peggy to fetch a bottle of whisky from above the kitchenette counter. He turns to waggle it slightly, as though gauging her thoughts on the choice of libation.

Peggy Carter has posed:
Looking across the room, Peggy's smile is quiet. Thoughtful. Her first time here and the amount it well reflects the man she knows -- with a few surprises, especially that little torii gate -- is an odd comfort. The heat of the fire in the small room is inviting, and she shifts her duffle off her shoulder, settling it down next to the bed, and then she's peeling out of her leather jacket as well. Beneath, she's wearing a simple, cream silk blouse with the wide, old fashioned lapels she always prefers. Just one step more dressy from being ready for a march on the front lines.

"I don't... Worry about it. But I also think you don't need to shake it off every time a thread hits. Sometimes just saying it aloud might tug on other threads. When you're ready." She doesn't look worried, simply thoughtful, and perhaps a bit sad. The whiskey chases away some of that sadness, wry smile instead pulling at her lips. "This time of the day, Howlett? You really do think we're young again." But she's not said no.

Logan Howlett has posed:
"Considering what happened last time we got on the giggle-water," Logan answers, the corner of his mouth curling into another half-grin as he pours a portion of the amber liquid out in a pair of short glasses, "You'll forgive me thinkin' it's a good idea."

Once the drinks are prepared, he makes his way over towards her and the fire, handing one glass to her and keeping one for himself. There's no sofa, just a single chair that looks to have been made from scratch. So instead he drops to the floor with a heavy thud, managing not to spill a drop as he goes, and pats the floor alongside him for her to join.

"I've got a radio somewhere in here," he says, waving around, "But it doesn't pick anything good up out here."

Peggy Carter has posed:
The floor is fire warmed and while not exactly comfortable, leaning against him makes it more than pleasant. Goodness knows they've both slept and sat in worse places. Peggy sinks down right in front of the fire with him, accepting the drink with one hand, smile still amused as she takes a small, considering sip of it. No shooting whiskey today, not this early. "We can have lovely evenings *without* being sauced. Or is that the only way you know how to relax these days, hm?" She turns her head just enough she can look up to his eyes, leaning somewhat perpendicular across his torso.

"And it'll be worth digging out a radio later. Right now... you dodged. You can tell me to drop it. Not to nose and ask. That you'll keep chasing these threads all alone like the island you are. But until you tell me to shove off, I'm not going to let you dodge around like it didn't happen."

Logan Howlett has posed:
Logan takes a thoughtful sip of his own drink, peering off into the flames for the moment. For all the effort he makes to conjure back the memory, it does not resurface. Like shards of ice in a night-dark sea, he can never see them until they pierce the flesh and chill to the bone.

"I ain't tellin' you to shove off," he says with a shake of his head, drawing her closer with his free arm so that they may lay in a warm, sprawled heap before the fire, "But why don't we just enjoy the now? We've got plenty of past to keep us busy at other times."

Peggy Carter has posed:
Leaning this close to him, he can feel the slight melt of relief from her muscles when he says he's not telling her to shove off. Peggy's still been worried, bracing herself for being cut out of the more difficult parts of his mind. The fun things are easy. That? She knows it's hard. She exhales slowly, sinking a bit deeper into his grasp and letting the heat of his form around her slowly warm her up in contrast to the chill of the hike up here.

But she doesn't quite drop it. Not yet. "...The now is about the only time we have to catch our breath, really... Think about those things. I'm not going to nudge you about in the middle of a fight with HYDRA. Just...when it hits, tell me? Just stop and tell me. Maybe I can help reconstruct things, or at least give another view." She turns enough that she's certain she can meet his eyes, a warmer smile on her lips, "I'm not just a pretty face, you know. I've over turned a stone or two in my life. And I didn't sign up just for the good times."

Logan Howlett has posed:
For a moment, Logan tries to recall another memory. Something he can share just as a show of good faith. But nothing comes, and after a moment he just grunts with irritation and polishes off the remnants of his drink in a single gulp. He sets the glass down on the wooden floor alongside them, nodding his head.

"Next time, I'll tell you all about it. Promise."

There's a sense that he doesn't quite trust it will work. He's been dealing with a shattered past for some years now, and he's never managed to truly pull it all together. But it never hurts to try.

He turns his attention to her more fully now, looking her over in a slow and familiar way.

Peggy Carter has posed:
Dark eyes watch him as she can practically see the tension across his face, the focus of grasping at things that simply aren't there. Peg turns her head gently, pressing a kiss against his bicep, a motion of reassurance. It doesn't have to be now. She's not leaving. She then leans over to grab at the bottle and top off his now-empty glass. He gets another drink for that.

"..Promise accepted. Thank you." She whispers, raising her glass to his in a quiet, accepting toast. Deal sealed.

Then she's settling back against him, stretched out a bit longer as she lounges into his frame like he was a comfortable, solid hammock or favourite chair. She smiles as she fits against him and catches his gaze. "...going to make me blush, looking like that." She offhandedly teases. But she's also blushing. It seems it's going to be a night of many good memories.