Logan

I died, now I’m back. Figure that makes us all caught up. You got any questions, you come see me.

“So long as ya don’t buy me an explodin’ cigar again...”

“Get the feelin’ I ain’t welcome here. Figures.”

“Takes one to know one, Slim. Beer later?”

“Tin Man hits one lucky home run an’ yer actin’ like he’s Babe Ruth.”

“More like 18 beers if y’ask me. Merry Christmas, Webhead.”

“Figure you’d learn from years of dick moves too, Bub.”

“Yer on, Red. Next no powers game we’ll settle this one and fer all.”

“Cheatin’s cheatin’, don’t matter if it’s a damn fastball or a snowball.”

“Can it, Webhead. You quit hummin’ an’ I quit tryin’ ta rip yer damn guts out.”

The hell did all’a ya quit actin’ like X-Men?

“I leave fer a few months and the whole place goes to hell in a goddamn hand basket. I’mma need a beer.”

“Hey Cap? Happy Birthday, Kid.”

“Just makin’ a point, Elf.”

“Damn kids, both of ya.”

Here’s the deal, we don’t wear costumes. They’re uniforms an’ the second ya pull it on yer wearin’ the X. Means ya gotta show the world yer the best’a Mutants, no matter how much they hate an’ fear ya. That’s what bein’ a damn X-Man is. So don’t ya ferget it, Bub.

“Bein’ a dick ain’t evolution, Slim.”

Smart guy.

“Figured ya might be.” Claws slowly, deliberately retract. Then he smirks. “You wanna beer?”