WELCOME TO DREAMWIDTH, HERO...

[ Logan's sitting on his bed at the Institute. his gift from Tank is lying beside him. ]

Lotta new faces on this thing. Just so we're clear: this place don't get any less crazy. Welcome to the goddamn funhouse.

[ he pauses, scratches the back of his hand, clearly having trouble reaching the point of this communication. he doesn't look precisely at the camera. instead, his gaze sketches the space around it, mapping the contents of the room. ]

I know ain't exactly the kinda guy.. I don't say this sorta thing much. I guess that ain't right. But it's who I am. Not a lot I can do about that. Been a long time since I spent Christmas somewhere that ain't blowin' up, or about to be blowin' up, or runnin' from somethin'. Long time. Guess that can do a number on you.

Hmn.

I knew a kid in France, durin' the war. 1944 maybe. Holed up in some bombed-out farmhouse in the middle of fuckin' nowhere for two and a half months. Middle of winter. We were eatin' potatoes raw outta the ground 'cause we couldn't get anythin' else. Half outta our minds with boredom and the cold. So we wake up one mornin' and this kid's decorated the whole place. Turns out he'd found some old sheets in the house and decided we needed some Christmas spirit, so he tore it up and sat up a whole night makin' ribbons and tyin' them to anythin' wasn't movin' around. [ he grunts, smiling a little at the memory. ] Kid was pretty pleased with himself. Least until our commanding officer tore him a new one for usin' up valuable resources.

Anyway. I remember sittin' there in the mornin', hungry, freezin' my goddamn ass off, lookin' around at this kid's work and thinkin' about how somewhere in the world someone else in the world was wakin' up to brightness and warmth. Turkey and presents under the tree and all that crap. And that made it feel like it was okay, what we were doin'. So long as somewhere else there was ribbons that weren't bein' made outta some dead woman's tablecloth.

[ he pauses again, lost in thought, fingers of one hand running back and forth over the knuckles of the other. then he reaches behind himself and picks up a packet of pre-made beer mixture. holds it up for the camera to see. ]

I know the person who sent me this is watchin'. Just wanted to say thanks.

Yeah. Okay. Whatever. [ he stands up, reaching over to turn the camera off. ]

[ this message brought to you by [Huge Scary Metal Skeleton Guy], thanks Scarab. ]

[ wind and police sirens in the background. the Wolverine is prowling the streets tonight. ]

Hey, Joker, you still out there? I owe ya one, bub. Or maybe now I owe ya two. Whatever. I'm lookin' forward to sniffin' you out. You can count on that.

[Private: Jean Grey]

Hey there Red. Heard you were back in town.

[ the feed opens on a shot of Logan sitting at a bar. from the angle, it looks like he's propped the comm up against a bottle or a glass. he's wearing his uniform, the cowl pushed back behind his head, and clearly in no hurry to explain himself. instead, he takes his time lighting the cigar clamped between his teeth. those who know him well might detect a hint of amusement in the curl of his lip, the way he raises his eyebrows as he looks into the camera, shaking the lit match out with a wave of his hand. ]

Guess this place ain't done with me yet. Hnn. Figures. [ he leans forward, taking the cigar out of his mouth and reaching for the communicator with his free hand. ] Any of you still lookin' at this thing, you got about three seconds to tell me what's goin' on.