Morgan & Logan | BACKDATED, Saturday the 7th

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Morgan runs into the new arrival, or rearrival as the case may be, and takes a losing bet that she refuses to regret.

"Fucking bloody cold." The cursing was muttered under her breath as Morgan made her way into the mansion from the front door. Sure, she'd chosen to take LeBeau up on his job offer, but maybe she should have taken the weather into more consideration with that one. How was she going to survive this every year? Having been in the heat of the Congo recently really hadn't helped at all. The scarf was unwound from around her neck after her coat was unbuttoned, but the thin strip of cloth obscured her vision enough that Morgan nearly smacked right into someone. Stopping short, she looked down at the man and raised an eyebrow. Well, he was new. The scarf was pulled free from her while Morgan checked out the new arrival. After her eyes had roamed she sighed. They were always short. It was less than half a foot, but it was enough to make the six foot metamorph have to look down to meet his eyes.

An eyebrow quirked when she asked, "So who're you? Passing through, newly home to roost? If you're looking to buy a bride, I've got to say we've left that industry. It was just a bit too dodgy and even with telepaths running around you never knew who you were selling the bride-to-be off to." Her words were followed by a smile, though it was one of Vanessa's that stretched fully across her lips rather than one of Morgan's.

Logan eyed the woman who'd just bumped into him and narrowed his eyes. Another newcomer. "Not exactly," he said around his cigar. So much for the Xavier no-smoking rules. "Why, you looking to get bought?" he said with a small grin, inhaling to get a fix on her scent. "And I'm Logan." he said. "Who're you?"

"Depends, you lookin' to buy?" Morgan batted her eyes at him. The effect was greatly diminished with the glowing red eyes. It would have worked better with her original eye color. The smirk that graced her lips soon after, though, fit her much more naturally. "I'm Morgan." She definitely knew his name, Morgan just had to remember what the hell it was she knew about him and whether or not it was important.

Logan made a good show of looking her over. "Tall's good, but too damned skinny." he teased. "Bulk up a bit, maybe we'll talk." he added. "Morgan, huh? You got the self-defense class, right?" he asked. So this is who they roped into helping Angelo out with the kiddies. Something about her smell tickled his nose and his memories both.

"Bulk up? Oh, love, but it's all muscle. You might change your mind when you see me naked." She winked at him, but it didn't look cheesy or forced like it usually did when most people winked. Morgan had once had a mimic she wore that was someone who winked a lot. It transferred to her blue form well because it was so familiar for her. "Aye, that'd be me. Angelo took off for Spain with the girlie though, so for the week it's pretty much just me."

"Huh." he said with amusement. He had a notion to stop in her class, see how she taught it. What she was teaching. He was itching for a good scrap and while the Danger Room was good for that, it couldn't ever replace a real live foe partner. He made another show of looking her over, as if to evaluate her muscle. Judging by his scraps with Mystique, a metamorph was a damned hard target. "You a bettin' woman?" he asked her out of the blue.

Morgan shifted her weight onto one leg so that her hip popped out and her hand rested on it. An eyebrow quirked upward. He could make all the show he wanted of combing her over visual. He could even do it for real for all she cared. It was his question that got her, though. "Depends on the bet. If it's one I've got a chance of winning, sure. I don't do sucker bets." Though the last time she'd bet someone casually she'd lost.

"I'm lookin' for a sparring partner. Nothing too serious, just blowing the rust off and getting back into X-Men shape." he said. "Got a case of beer that says you eat mat more than I do in an hour." he said, looking up at her tauntingly. She was a fine-lookin' specimen. Exotic and well-proportioned. But he'd heard she was a metamorph and his last experience with a metamorph was ... unsettling. "Oh, and one other thing - you take me up on this, you stay as you." he cautioned.

"My body, one hour, a case of beer on the line?" Well, those were stipulations she could live with easily enough. She didn't know the man's capabilities, but Morgan also liked a challenge. "Are we talking an actual sparring, playing around and not trying to hurt anyone, sort of session or a training session?" It was important to know what you might be getting into as much as possible beforehand. There were enough surprises with a new training or sparring partner, she didn't need the session itself to be one of them.

"I'm not one of your pups." he said. "I'm not looking to learn or to pick up some tips. This is practice for the real world, darlin'." he said with a grin. "We keep it non-lethal but other than that it's all on the line." he said. "If you're interested. If not, I get that." he added.

This time when her eyes combed over him Morgan was studying him. Logan was dense muscle. What he didn't have in height the sheer girth of his muscle made up for. If he got his hands on her she was done for. Morgan was quick, quiet and agile. She'd have to be able to react faster than him to small clues of body language, but she could read body language like most people read a stop sign. Morgan would have to turn his own momentum against him, not because she was weak but because there was no way she could outdo him in brute force. Her disadvantage became her height, her long legs and the fact that he could move his shorter ones faster if they were equally matched.

It looked like a sucker's bet, but she smiled. "Aye, well, I like a challenge." And she needed one. Morgan had been at the mansion for over six months but she hadn't done any combat training since arriving. She kept herself in shape and she'd performed just fine in the field, but she needed someone to test her, see where she bent and where she broke. It was only a case of beer and hopefully he wasn't dick enough to seriously injure her.

She was tall. Probably quick by the look of her. She didn't seem to have a lot of muscle mass but what she did have was probably well-toned and fast-twitch. With her reach he'd have to get inside, use elbows and knees, deny her her strongest weapons. Battlefield control was going to be crucial. Give her room to move and she'd just destroy him. Another thing to be mindful of. At least she couldn't hurt him. But he could hurt her. Something else to be mindful of. "So we on?" he asked once again. "And I should tell you. I like beer in cans." he told her with a grin.

"Of course we're on." She returned his grin with one of her own. "Don't get too ahead of yourself there, Grizzly. I may not have your muscle mass, but this isn't going to be as easy as you might think it will be." Just like stickball in the neighborhood, figure out who the strongest hitter was and take them out first before they could do too much damage. Taking him out wouldn't be easy, but it was doable. She had a feeling what she needed was to get his legs out from under him, get him in the air if possible. Morgan had tossed bigger guys than him loads of times and she wasn't above fighting dirty if the situation called for it but this wasn't so serious as to warrant it. "You thinking of a time frame for this or are you the impatient sort? 'Cause if you are, love, I've definitely got to change." The metamorph looked down at herself in her heavy boots and jeans. They weren't ideal fighting clothes and she almost never wore jeans except they were warmer.

"Up to you, darlin'." he said with a grin. He himself was in jeans and boots and flannel, his usual wear when it got cold out. "Doesn't matter a bit to me. But that beer's gonna be mighty tasty." he added. "I try not to say no when a woman wants to dress skimpier." he smirked.

Morgan narrowed her eyes and leaned down so that she was nose-to-nose with Logan. "You're lucky that I like 'cocky' in a man, love." She winked and for a moment it looked as if Morgan would kiss him, but instead she pulled back. "I don't wear jeans as a rule, but it's bloody fucking cold here and they're warmer. I can meet you in ten to twenty. Promise I'll be skimpier." Of course, at this rate just changing into a tank top would have qualified as skimpier than what she was wearing, but that was just details.

"I do like 'em feisty." he chortled. "Fine. Gym in twenty." he said with an unholy amused look. He had no intention of changing clothes whatsoever. Part of his thing is that he could fight in anything at all - from heavy cold-weather gear to nothing at all and everything in between. He'd spent the years that he could remember fighting in each dive-bar and truck stop in Canada, and before that he knew he was a killer. "See you there, darlin'." he told her, then lit his stogie and began to make his way to the Gym.

"Got feisty in fucking spades," Morgan muttered to him. She bumped his hip with her own as she headed off. "Aye, love, twenty in the gym." Morgan was, admittedly, frozen. Real-life simulations meant she couldn't change, but this wasn't a real-life fight so she was going to take the opportunity to change. Besides, if she was going to end up bruised to high hell and buying him a case of beer then she'd sure as hell be in comfortable clothes for it. The kids would love it when their teacher came hobbling into the class sore and beat up.

Eleven minutes after they'd parted ways Morgan showed up in the gym. She wasn't wearing work out clothing at all. Rather she was wearing her steel toed boots she wore on the job, her fitted cargo pants and a tank top. Movement was the key and she could move just fine in this. Morgan was thoroughly ready to get her ass handed to and even had a smile on her face as she walked in. She would make it as hard for him as possible, but around here Morgan tended to assume most people could hand her ass to her.

Morgan was flipped over his shoulder and landed with a hard thud on the mat behind him. Ow. She hadn't whined, whimpered, groaned, squeaked or otherwise put sound to the pain that came whenever she hit the mat on the floor, or the one on the wall that one time. Morgan had known she was going to get her ass handed to her, though she didn't know she'd get it handed to her this much. You only got better by taking on stronger, more skilled opponents. Aleister had told her that when he first started training her in hand to hand techniques. Sure, Morgan had gotten her licks in as well, even sprawling Logan on the ground twice. She got better as their match went on but she ended up thrown around for at least forty to forty-five minutes of their hour. There would be bright purple bruises on her in a matter of hours she knew, including ones on her jaw and under her left eye where he'd landed blows. The rest could be covered by clothing but Morgan didn't have a problem admitting someone better than herself beat her.

Logan wouldn't have a scratch on him, of course, and not just because of his healing factor.

A little plastic kitchen timer she'd nabbed on the way to the gym went off indicating the end of their hour. Morgan rolled over onto her stomach and raised herself up with her hands under her shoulders before she got her feet under her and stood. Mentally she gave herself credit because she had never given up, given in or let him have too much time after he put her down. She had kept coming at him even though it didn't get her far.

Stretching her arms over her head, the blue-skinned woman gave him a crooked grin. "You never did name your preferred brand." She didn't sound too upset over having lost so spectacularly.

Logan grinned at Morgan. "King of Beers works fine for me. I'm a little tired of Moosehead." he said with a shrug. "You're not bad, kid. Some bad habits, but not bad at all." he said, rummaging in his shirt pocket for a stogie. "Smoke?" he asked her as he dug one out.

"Fucking Canadians and their Moosehead." she muttered to herself as she leaned over to nick the timer from where she'd left it on the ground. "Thanks, but no. Never been a smoker." There were a few people she'd impersonated who did smoke and Morgan put it on her list of disgusting things she didn't want to do when she didn't have to. She rolled her head from one shoulder to the other to stretch her neck. "You ever train people? I could use someone as good as you to break me of my bad habits. After all, I never took the bet because I thought I'd win."

"Used to have your job." he said with amusement. He let her jibe about Canadians pass - he might be Canadian for all he knew. Spent enough time there. "Had to give it up. And suit yourself." he said before he lit his smoke and took a drag. "But you want to pick up some pointers, I think we could arrange something." he said.

"Want it back? I'm leaving, moving out of the mansion." She didn't think he would want it back, after all people should move on and that never happened by taking steps backward. "Though I'd make it a point to be back here at least once a week or so if you'd be willing to train me up a bit. Nothing like getting your ass handed to you less often for motivation, yeah?"

"Don't think Summers'd like that much." he admitted. "Probably better if I don't." he said. "Where you headed, anyway?" he asked curiously.

Morgan shrugged. "Didn't think you'd take it anyway. Besides, they've got a replacement who should work out." Morgan headed for the gym's door with the intention of returning the timer and then going on a long swim to help relax some of her battered muscles. "I'm heading into the City. Working for Snow Valley. You know them? Everyone else around here seems to." Secret identity her ass.

Logan just grinned at her. "Heard of 'em." he said with amusement. "I stop by, time to time. Maybe I'll see you." he offered. "Should go soak those bruises. They're not too bad." he offered. He, of course, didn't bear a mark on him. And right now he vaguely envied her hers.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," she said with amused sarcasm when he grinned. "I bruise pretty easy, actually. It's just harder to see with the blue most of the time." Morgan shrugged. "I'm going swimming first. Stretch out and relax all the muscles that have gotten tense on account of 'ow, that fucking hurts,' y'know? They can be soaked after." She considered making a really bad joke about battered woman chic but it was in too poor taste even for Morgan.

"Have fun with that. Gonna go for a beer." he commented as he gave her one last look. "Nice meetin' ya, kid." he said before he took his leave.

"Yeah, yeah," she grumbled to herself as he left. "Rub it in why dontcha?" Morgan gave Logan's retreating back a two-fingered salute and then he went off toward her suite so she could fetch her swimsuit before attacking the pool.