POV: Scott
When it comes to the Marvel Universe, there are certain bastards you simply do not want to get close to—even if they're technically your allies.
Logan—aka Wolverine—is sitting comfortably at the top of that list. Right up there with Deadpool and a few other lunatics.
Why?
Because the guy has some serious anger issues.
And let's be honest—nobody wants an immortal berserker with razor-sharp claws and a skeleton laced with one of the strongest metals in the universe coming after them.
And now?
That same lunatic is standing right in front of me.
But I'm not scared.
Because if there's one thing I've realized, it's that I'm one hell of an actor.
"I'm not in the mood to talk."
Yes. I just told one of the most dangerous men on Earth to get lost.
Honestly? I'm starting to think I'm missing a screw somewhere.
"Huh. Wonder where that backbone came from… bub."
Okay. I am absolutely screwed.
And the worst part? Backing down now would scream weakness.
And let's just say a deer shouldn't start bleeding in front of a hungry wolf.
In my case?
It's that. Times ten.
"Same place you found yours when you decided to sneak around with Jean behind my back."
Logan doesn't react outwardly.
But the silence says enough.
Another successful gamble.
At this rate, I should hit a casino later.
"And what exactly are you planning to do about it?"
Honestly? If I were actually Scott, maybe I'd feel humiliated.
But I'm not.
First of all, I can name at least three or four women hotter than Jean on the top of my head.
Second? I had nothing to do with her. Scott did. Not me.
"Nothing."
"…What?"
Now he genuinely looks confused.
Like he just heard a politician refuse free money.
"There are things worth my anger. Worth my time. I can assure you… your little 'Experiment' with Jean isn't one of them."
The ultimate bluff.
Throw something so outrageous at them, and they don't even notice the real problem underneath.
"So that's all she was to you? An experiment?"
Yep. That's a bad sign.
"Why are you asking me? I'm not the one who cheated. She did."
"And you don't get to lecture me either. If you were half the man you pretend to be, you'd have told me to my face instead of letting me find out on my own."
I have no idea why I keep saying this stuff.
Now I can only pray he doesn't snap.
"You talk about being a man, but you couldn't even give her what she needed."
Oh, please.
That's the kind of argument someone makes when they know they're wrong but refuse to admit it.
"You know what? I don't give a damn."
"You want her that badly? Fine. She's yours."
His expression twists.
"She's not an object!"
Okay. Threat level officially too high for my liking.
Time to fuck off.
"Think whatever you want. I won't be around anyway. Good luck."
I turn my back and walk toward my car like the conversation's over.
Then I feel it—
A hand clamps onto my shoulder with crushing force.
"That's it?! You run your mouth and think you can just walk away?!"
Okay. Okay. Stay calm.
"Why wouldn't I? I'm not even mad at you. If anything… you helped me."
His face tightens, but he says nothing.
Time to improvise.
Luckily, that's my specialty.
"Before all this team drama… before I found out about your little adventure with her… I was planning something."
Now he looks confused. Good.
"There's this great restaurant a few blocks from here."
"What the hell does that have to do with anything?!"
"I made a reservation. The plan was to take Jean there. Quiet dinner. No chaos. No missions."
He's still frowning.
Perfect.
"Then I was going to let the mood build. And suddenly, '7 Years' would start playing—you know, the Lukas Graham song?"
He doesn't speak.
But I can see it clicking.
"I was going to propose."
I slowly open my bag and take out the small box—the ring I found in Scott's closet.
It hurts letting go of guaranteed cash.
But it's either this…
Or my life.
"It took me six months to save up. You have no idea what a good ruby costs."
Without hesitation, I shove the box against his chest.
"You helped me realize I was about to make the biggest mistake of my life. So… thank you."
"And since I know you're usually broke, you can use it when you decide the time's right."
Now his face twists again.
But not in anger.
"Anyway. I'm out. I really need a vacation from all this crap."
I toss the open bag into the passenger seat, slam the door, and start the engine.
VROOOOM.
Music to my ears.
I press the clutch, hit the gas—
And just like that…
I leave the X-Mansion behind.