𝐿𝑂𝐺𝐴𝑁

—

"Rather me call you 'red'? Or maybe just call ya 'trouble'?" Logan grins, flashing his fangs at her along with a devilishly charismatic wink.

"Ain't never said it wasn't, witchiepoo."

His hands work over a carved a gift he'd made for someone special out of quartz. Turns out she hadn't waited for him. He turns it over in his hands and then sighs, tossing it into the fireplace. Letting it burn and shatter along with the firewood. "Not everythin' is evergreen."

"Then we might just have a bit of trouble, wouldn't we?"

"Well since ya weren't thinkin' that, I say we don't have much trouble then, do we, witchiepoo?"

"Would what, Wanda?"

// want to write. head is pounding. ugh. be lurking.

"What? It's a perfectly fine jack o'lantern!"

"Huh... leave for a few weeks and shit always changes~"

Grumbles. He's back from his wilderness retreat.