<div class="floatleft">(http://blog.dinoray.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/07/wolverine-smoking-feature-290x290.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>James 'Logan' Howlett/Wolverine<br/><strong>Location:</strong>NYC, Stark Tower<br/><strong>Whereabouts:</strong>Up, up, up the Elevator, to the Lounge<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Traditional coat over plain white tank top, worn denim jeans and worn combat boots.<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Open<br/><hr/>Logan wasn't the most ardent lover of confined spaces. Elevators were better than planes, but they were still pretty bad. At least this one moved without stopping. The Stark tower had a lot of elevators, which meant that anyone that wanted to go up or down could get their own freakin' ride, and not bother him on his way up to the lounge. He didn't know why was going there. He was bored. The Avengers didn't have much to do during New Years. Seemed like villains had taken the Holidays off.<br/><br/>Kudos to them. Logan took a long drag of his cigar and puffed the smoke out at the 'No Smoking' sign inside the elevator. Because fuck Stark and his elevator rules.<br/><br/>The sound of another elevator rising just above the one that he was riding could be plainly hear. It was all but rattling up there. The scent, as well as the perfume and pheromone-heavy cloud that accompanied reminded him of only one person. Unless Steve was going through some hormone changes, it was definitely Jessica Drew. Spider-Woman. One of them, anyways.<br/><br/>His elevator dinged, a sound which made him wince. It was like nails on a chalkboard to his sensitive hearing. Scent and voices told him that besides Jessica, Steve and Natasha had already arrived. Were they bored too? Great, they would all be bored together. The Avengers had ways of turning a boring evening into a fun, action-packed... month or so.<br/><br/>Without greeting the bunch, Logan moved over to the bar. Natasha had settled for a Beer, and the other two weren't drinking, so he settled for a bottle of scotch. With sleek unsheathing of a single claw, he decapitated, and therefore opened the bottle, and, pulling his cigar from his mouth, took a long swing," Whachu-all doing tonight?" He growled at them, despositing his unconventionally heavy body on a neaby couch, propping his feet up on a coffee table.