<div class="floatleft">(http://media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/15/eb/a5/15eba5528bdf2f0d6e44fc89f87d85df.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Logan<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Westchester, New York, The Xavier Institute<br/><strong>Whereabouts:</strong><br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Jeans, Black undershirt, one sock<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Danger Room Team<br/><hr/>Eva's wish came true, in a manner of speaking. You should be careful what you wash for. Logan was walking, quickly associating which of the sentinels were the closest, which ones were the readiest to attack and which ones poised the most danger to him and the students. In a little while, he supposed, he would see that Roguey was right. Sentinels were a bit too much to first timers, even though for him they were a walk in the park with a cute dame. He would come around, maybe apologize...<br/><br/>He walked into... nothing. Something. He felt it first with his claws as he stepped forward but was too concentrated on their enemies to realize what it was until he bashed his nose into it. The smell of burning skin filled his sensitive senses as the hot embers of the cigar curled up and put themselves out on his nose. It took him a full second to realize what had happened, and who was to blame. He didn't turn back. He didn't turn away from the sentinels. His heart was hammering. Ever since Jean died he had had a short fuse, and everyone knew it. More importantly, everyone knew not to light it. If he let what his instincts were telling him to do take over, he would go into a rage in which he would kill the sentinels, students and keep going until somebody stopped him halfway across the state. Hey, it might even be fucking therapeutic.<br/><br/>But Storm would never forgive him for that. He had done a lot of shit, but hurting her students, that was a line that she wouldn't let him cross. She would kick his ass, or worse, call in Kitty to kick it for her. That would just be embarrassing. He growled. It was now safe for him to turn around, so he did so, giving the White Haired Broad a glare that would send chills down Galactus' spine. He spat his ruined cigar out of his mouth, moving with very slow, very deliberate movements, pulling his case out and drawing another cigar from it, putting it back in and pulling out a match, lighting it, and in turn his cigar. He puffed it once, feeling his heart rate going down. His heightened senses caught onto everyone else starting the fight, one of them kicking a can in the direction of the sentinels, and another picking the can kicking up and tossing her in the direction of the sentinels.<br/><br/>"Oh fuck," He growled past his cigar and pointing his claws at Eva," This ain't over, shit-for-brains," And he turned around to make sure that Nuo didn't get herself too hurt. She seemed pretty competent, from what he'd caught out of the corner of his eye, but still, couldn't be too careful with the Mutant Hunters.