<div class="floatleft">(http://thefederalist.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/03/MV5BODI4M2RlMTItYjMwYS00MjdmLWIzNTItM2NlNjU4MDFhNTIwXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyNDUwNzM4MzQ@._V1_-998x667.jpg)</div><strong>Character Name/Alias:</strong>Logan Howlett<br/><strong>Location:</strong>The New Xaviers School For the Gifted, New York City, Central Park<br/><strong>Current Action(s):</strong>stepping into the school for the first time<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Open!<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Duster, jeans, simple white turtle neck<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Meanwhile outside of the great school….<br/><br/>“Shit this was a bad idea.”<br/><br/>The older weathered man on the bike murmured that to himself as his eyes swept over the large estate stretched out before him. After everything he had been through in the last couple of months this damn building scared him the most. Not even being flung through time and space, meeting his fun, and fighting a supped up alternate Doctor Doom came close to freaking him out as much as Xaviers School For Mutants.<br/><br/>For a second his eyes flashed to the Xavier’s of his own timeline. Of what it looked like after E- Day. The crumbled broken walls, the charred husk of students unlucky enough to get out. The dead X-Men he mourned. They all came at him like a barrage that made his head hurt. His head aches were dubbed cross temporal echoes by the fancy scientist over at SHIELD. Course Logan had a simpler name for them.<br/><br/>“Fucking ghost.” He murmured shaking his head from side to side as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. It was his on little secret that he enjoyed the ghosts. This wasn’t his world, the ghost helped him not only remember that but also remember those he lost. The true X-men.<br/><br/>That wasn’t fair though. These bubs were the X-men of this world. So far in his interactions with them he didn’t see any reason to refute their claim. However, they weren’t the family he spent so much time with and fought side by side with. He knew they were being nice by offering him a position at the school a position he at first held no desire to take.<br/><br/>Things changed though. Logan got lonely and nostalgic and here it was making a fool of him. He contemplated that as he unscrewed the cap of his silver flask and walked up the steps. Leading into the school. His cowboy boots thudded in a cadence with his heavy step as he brought himself right up to the front door. For a second he simply contemplated it debating whether to turn and run before finally getting over himself and reaching out to try the handle.<br/><br/>It swung open for him a silent invitation that he was at least expected. With one last murmured curse he crossed over the threshold and stepped into the mansion properly. He ignored the barrage of memories that threatened to spill out as he was met with more familiarity.<br/><br/>“Get a grip.” He murmured to himself as he turned and reached out to shut the door. Once it was closed he turned back and brought his hands up to his mouth.<br/><br/>“Hello!” He called out shrugging his duster off and placing it on the coat rack. “Anyone home?”