Apparently, the confrontation of sickness and murder hadn't helped Logan at all. In fact, it might've been considered worse for him. Logan was dreading coming home to the apartment every day now, for some reason. He didn't like the fact he was getting soft. He didn't believe Criss would actually live.

His icy blue eyes were on the lookout for someone new to stalk... someone new to hurt. His skunk-ish hair was pulled back into a lazy ponytail with pieces that still fell into his eyes.

He was wearing dirty clothes. Baggy clothes. A pair of simple blue jeans, that were too sizes too big, and a plain black shirt, that looked to be too big as well.

In the way of jewelry, he had a lot of things. Two silver earrings, a golden lip ring, and a silver eyebrow ring.

His nails were painted black, and his eyes were outlined in black, as well as his lips were shaded in it. He was wearing more makeup than a girl, was gold, glittery eye-shadow to boot.

His shoes weren't nice. They were just some old boots that he didn't really care for.

His arms were crossed over his chest, and he was lurking, waiting for people to come by to stalk. Victims, you could say.

He wears black too. But not for the same reasons. And not because he really likes the color. He doesn’t really remember what most colors look like. He wears black because he knows it matches. When you can’t see, you begin to worry about walking around in a pink shirt and green pants or something. His clothes are plain, a black tee shirt over a long-sleeved gray shirt and black pants. He also wears a black strip of cloth tied over his eyes. Most people find this strange. Not many people think it’s because he’s blind. And it’s not. It’s to cover the scars around his eyes that were part of the blindness. His dark tanned skin has a weathered look, like one who spends his time on a beach. Close. He used to live on one. Now he spends his time wandering around waisting time, then getting lost and trying to find his way home.

Which is exactly what he’s doing right now. Emrys left campus around two hours ago, leaving his hawk (the equivalent to a seeing eye dog) in his dorm room. He’d wandered so far, that he’d eventually lost count of how many footsteps went to where and how many right and left turns he’d made, and in what order he’d made them. He found himself getting lost more and more often, mostly because he would have a vision in the middle of his walk and forget everything about directions. Same went for tonight. There’s been more murders then usual in the city. Verkur, of course, had murdered tonight. And another female Demon was conspiring to kill. He also had been seeing humans, normal humans killings more often. They were haunting his dreams as well as his random visions.

Now, Emrys walked with his cane held in one hand, it’s [I]tap tap tap[/] echoing slightly as he used it so not to run into any walls or stumble off the edge of a curb, and his other hand on the wall. His ears were perked for any sounds of movment. When one sense was cut off, such as sight, the others improved. And Emrys had excellent hearing.

(One word comes to mind while reading this post. Crap. Sorry it's bad this time))

The soft 'tap, tap tap' noise was all that Logan needed. He knew that sound quite well... the tapping of a cane, quite obviously. And besides, he could see him, walking down the sidewalks as he stood in an alley, watching. There was no doubt about it that he was blind, which was perfect.

This time, he'd try a different approach. Not stalk and follow home. Oh no, there was no need to stalk him, silently. He couldn't see, so what difference would it make? It would be useless to try and silently follow him, anyway. Logan knew very well that when one sense was disabled, the other improved. Most of the time, it was hearing. Logan wasn't stupid, you see. He picked and choosed his victims very carefully, studying weaknesses and strengths as he stalked them, watched what they did in their pitiful little lives. And he studied enough to know about blind people. Had enough of them for victims to know... the approach with these ones was different. Not by much, but it was.

Logan moved with stealth and grace, despite the fact he didn't have to, stepping towards the man, walking alongside him.

his disabillity to see was so much to Logan's advantage. Most thought him scary looking, although his voice was sweet and almost angelic. Smooth as silk, or butter. And cut off the scary-looking, and he's just an innocent boy.

"Excuse me?" the soft voice inquired. "May I help you?"

(Emrys, you must have something wrong with your head if you think what you wrote was crap. *Pokes.* You are not capable of making a bad post. Not by my standards, anyway. So stop apologizing, silly.)

Except that Emrys is indeed blind, he’s very different from blind people. And probably more so then the ones Logan has previously...er...met. Emrys had already incountered much danger by listening to the tone in ones voice, and had learned not to trust a voice, or a tender helping hand. After all, Verkur had sounded so loving when he’d helped the blind man to his feet and cleaned away his blood. Now look at him. The scar running from jaw line to collar bone wasn’t self-inflicted after all, and most of the visions he had wasn’t just anyone’s murders.

Stealth and Grace was, as you said, not needed. The moment he’d heard Logan’s footsteps join his, move beside his, as soon as he’d felt the soft little breeze that means something in the air near you has changed, the one most people don’t feel, he’d moved closer to the wall and stopped walking. He stood, half turned at the waist, his grip on his cane moving from the top to the side of the handle. Note now that he is absolutely paranoid and that the way in which he holds his cane now, while the end is still touching the ground, is similar to the way in which a cop holds his night stick.

"Excuse me? May I help you?"

Innocence. More reason not to trust. Voice doesn’t compute in the memory bank. Again, more reason not to trust. Smells...like fresh laundry clothing and garbage? Were they near a trash bin or Ally? Or did the voice’s own smell of trash?

“I believe I’m alright. Thank you though.” He didn’t move.


((One, there is something wrong with my head, we just haven’t figured out what yet. Two, So I’ve been told so I believe. People tell me my post is good but I think it’s bad because I know I can do better.))

Oh, so his hearing is impeccable and he's smart. This would prove to be interesting enough, and a new, fun game for Logan. Not often did he come across one so... protective. He couldn't tell, but usually they were easy to persuade... they were so vulnerable..

"Are you sure?" The timid voice asked again. No, his voice was not that vile smell... it was the alley. This end of town always smelled bad... almost like the smell of rotting flesh. But to Logan, the smell was nice, and possibly pleasing.

(SDfsdjkfhsdlfj. Sorrysorrysorry. I feel bad because the post was short and bad. Eek.)

He remained where he was, not moving, placing his other hand on the top of the cane, the first hand still remaining on the side where it would be easy and maybe necessary to use it as a weapon. His dark, serious face was set, and were the blindfold not there, his eyes would be hard.

“I’m absolutely sure. Thank you.”

While the thank you had obviously not been added as an after thought (and he really was a polite guy) it was inexcusably dismissing. He no longer trusts easily and maybe not even at all.

((*Smacks on forehead* If I can’t feel bad then you can’t.))

Oh, how very interesting... someone who wouldn't accept a gentle, helping hand? This could complicate things, just a little.

Logan made an interesting face at the man. It was not a pleased face, and twisted the boy's pretty features. It was a mix between a pouting and a thinking face, and it looked awkward on him. Not that Emrys could see the face, anyway.

The expression eased into a simple frown, soon.

"I'm sorry to hear that. I apologize for having bothered you, sir." Logan wasn't naturally polite, but it usually played very, very well with his victims. Probably not Emrys, but any other person would fall into his simple trap. His act of playing the innocent boy he was supposed to be, but wasn't. Perhaps this act was too... trite.

Just because he said that, didn't mean he wouldn't use another tactic. Perhaps a more useful, dramatic one, usually used only for drastic measures.

I'm sorry to hear that, well, sorry to have bothered you, sir.

There are two things in What Logan had just said that had startled him. One being polite, the other not so. Emrys had not ever been called sir. He was only twenty something years old. Maybe a little older or younger, but whose to say? When he'd been found, they guessed and now his superficial birth certificate would tell you he's twenty two.

The second thing made his fist curl tighter around the neck of the hemlock cane. When a handicapped man told you he needed you help not, usually you don't say I'm sorry to hear that. Usually you'd be happy for the person that they can get around on their own.

At these words, Emrys cocked his head to the side slightly, to listen closer to the boy. There had been no footsteps, and so the boy remained in front of him. He wanted to wave his hands and shout 'shoo' but not only would it be rude, he had a feeling it would not make the boy go away. And an unhappy boy usually lead to being pushed down and haveing his cane taken away so he'd wander around completly blinded.

Mean little boys that pick on poor people and three legged dogs and blind men. How was he to know that Logan pulled wings off of flies?

How was Logan to know how old the man was, though? He didn't guess ages. He didn't want to, didn't need to, and would probably just be wrong if he guessed. So it was useless. Thus the 'sir' tacked on, since it applied to any adult male above... eighteen or so.

It was no matter. Logan's footsteps could be heard on the sidewalk, now, purposely. He planned to make Emrys think he'd walked away, and follow him with a very big distance in between them, or at least so he was out of hearing range of him.

Emrys needn't shoo him away, because he started to walk away on his own. He hoped he'd leave it at that, and think nothing suspicious of it. After all, he'd just asked, been denied, and then walked away. Simple, right?

Too bad Logan is the kind of kid who picks unmercifully on handicapped people.

Too bad for logan that 'Simple' doesn't cut it for Emrys. Too much has happened to the man for him to settle for anything less then proof. As the footsteps moved away, he remained where he was, back against the wall, his hand tight around his cane. He wasn't in a hurry. It's not like moving now would lead him the right direction to the dorms anyways. Right? Right.

So Emrys stays, his ears picking up distant traffic, cats rattling the trash cans in the ally nearby, shouting at a distance. And still, he just stood. Was this frustrating for Logan? Just sitting. Probably not. If he's a killer, waiting should be a big thing in his routine. But that doesn't mean he has to be patient about it.

Finally, not satisfied with any form of real proof that he was alone again, the blind man moves. But only because his knees had started to cramp. His cane made the tell tale tap tap tap back and forth across the pavment surface, slowly at first, then quicker.

Logan was still taking paces back, ever so slowly, ever so quietly. He can wait, yes, but patience has never quite been in his resume, you see. He might be a killer, but that doesn't mean he has to be patient. It's rather a genetic flaw, you see. And learning patience was quite difficult.

But he did wait. He stepped farther and farther, still moving along at his smooth, slow, steady pace, until he stopped, and waited more. Waited for the blind man to keep walking just keep walking... and hopefully the sound of his cane, and all the noises of the city would drown out his footsteps.

But Logan still didn't move. Not yet. He turned around, to see where his victim stood now.

His victim was now leaving the vacinity. He moves fast for not being able to see anything. He was turning a corner when Logan had finally turned and looked up. And now he was hauling ass to get around any other random corner. He didn't trust false proof that the kid was gone. He did trust his instincts, paranoid or not, that the kid was up to no good. He wanted distance. Distance between them. Distance between this place.

Why had he left his merlin at home. The bird would have managed to guide him faster then he could move himself along, and would have warned him of a follower. Emrys didn't actually think that the kid was following, not yet, but he wanted distance between them nontheless.

After a few minutes, and a good enough distance between him and his victim, Logan started to follow. Not in his usual, quick strides, but in a slower, more collected kind of walk that was sort of slow but at the same time quick. The kind of walk that said, 'don't get in my way, I've got business to deal with'. And, in Logan's point of view, he did have business to deal with.

He was used to following people like this, but Emrys' blindness was almost to his advantage, because he couldn't look over his shoulder and see him coming. But he could hear him..

But Logan was taking care of that problem, hopefully.

Emrys did not hear him. Too much distance took care of that problem...for Logan...but not for the victim. Emrys continued at this pace for a long while and then finally, he was satisfied after all the twisted turns and loops and mazes he'd made in and out of the allys that he might not be followed. Still, he was nervous.

He wanted to sit, but there was no way he was going to. People who get attacked while they sit are less likely of getting away then people who are standing. So instead, he tapped with his cane until he heared the metalic ringing of his cane hitting a light pole and he leaned his back against it, one hand on top of the cane, the other on the side. It seems even a relaxed guesture consists of that on the gaurd stance for him.

Emrys had a right to be nervous, with Logan following him. his pace was careful and calculated, never changing until he'd caught sight of the man again. Now what? This was getting nowhere. Was he lost?

He crossed his arms over his chest, scouting for any possible weapons.

A trashcan looked good.

Was he lost? He was very lost. Good guess Logan, you get one point.

Emrys was lost. And after that huge maze he'd created trying to loose anyone who might be following him, he'd only furthered his lost-ness. The Blind man tried to go back into his mind to trace his steps the way he'd come but he couldn't remember all of those lefts and rights and the pattern they'd gone in. And besides, what good would it be. What if someone had been following him, he'd managed to get away. Then what? Turn around and walk right back into them. Uh-un. Nope. Not good.

But Emrys was used to being lost by now. It happened all the time. And usualy, he would do as he was doing now, rest and collect his thoughts. Sometimes, if he lucked out, he'd get a vision of his path. Of course, even getting lucky consisted of the pain in his mind and body that came with the visions.

So he waited. Poor Logan, subjected to another bout of waiting. Twice in one night!

Logan could be patient, yes... but only for a certain amount of time. Twice in one night... was just not going to go over well with him. Impatience was a terrible flaw of Logan's, and one that he could never seem to just get rid of.

But this wasn't just impatience. This was starting to get irritating, and pointless. And frustrating... and annoying... and snap went Logan's patience... or rather, what was left of it.

This was boring... bland, a waste of time...

In Logan's frustration at having to wait, a rather large hand (too big to belong to Logan) clamped down on Emrys' shoulder in an iron grip, with no intention of letting go.

He squeezed with the invisible hand. Hard. That's what you get when you make him wait.

Emrys felt the pressure, started at the first realiztion that someone had snuck up without his hearing them, and his hand went to his shoulder to grab, and flesh met...air? Oh? What could make air do that? All of a sudden Emrys was calm again. He didn’t like it, but he knew magic better then he knew anything real. His ‘mother’ had often used it, taught him.

His hand fell loose from the tinging pain that the invisible hand was causing and he forced himself to relax. Mentally, Emrys sent out his thoughts to the muscles beneath the invisible hand, relaxing further then was physically possible. The pain gone, now he could think on how to deal with this one. Poor Logan. Two suprises compressed in one month. First the magical teacher, now the semi-magical Blind man. He just wasn’t having a good month.

Emrys may know how to get ride of the pain, but he’s not sure he knows how to fight the magic beyond that grip. Now what? Well, we won’t let Logan (or whoever this attacker might be) know that we don’t know.

Surprises. Surprises. That set a very sour expression on his face, twisting and contorting it into something that looked terrible, and more than just a little frustrated. Never had he known anyone to relax with that grip, nevermind a handicapped person.

That approach didn't work, and the hand faded away, releasing Emrys' shoulder from its grip.

Plan B, then.

Slowly, a trashcan full of trash (what else) began to float. And with effort, the object hurtled towards Emrys.

Let's see if this is effective as when he'd done it to the professor.

And Emrys only just realized that the hand releaseing his shoulder was not a good sing. Rather it was bad. Really bad. He felt it mentally before he felt it physically. It was like a paint brush just tickling the side of your head that the trashcan was hurtling towards. At the brush against his mind, Emrys threw up his arms and twisted towards the trashcan, taking the force of it’s weight onto his forearms. He fell backwards, his cane clattering and rolling to a stop a few feet away. The can’s weight was heavy on his thin form, and he let it roll over his chest and head, turning his head to the side to avoid injury, to get it off of him rather then try to lift it.

Trashcan clattering across the pavment, Emrys rolled onto his side and curled up, holding his chest with a very seriously scared hand.

shake it off Emrys Damien! Get up!

And so he rolled onto his knees and gropped around blindly for his cane or something to guide him with. He was really an unlucky guy. Come to America, get attacked by a demon, ambushed by more visions then he’d ever used to have, ambushed by a man trying to get him to sell his soul, another blind person runs him down, and now this?

That had had an even better effect on him than he'd originally planned. But as for the cane? Nope, no cane for you, buddy. He slowly, tauntingly moved the thing away from Emrys, without havig to lift a finger.

He wasn't sure why, but he was angry. Angrier than he usually was... at everything, and he'd decided he'd take it out on poor Emrys. It wasn't as if he deserved it or anything, but now that he was down, Logan decided that Emrys would be the victim of all his rage. Poor man.

The trashcan rolled back at the same speed it'd first hit him with, Logan's intentions to possibly kill him. But, no... too hard. He didn't feel like taking care of a body today.

Emrys listened to the cane as it was slowly pulled away from him, the mental brush now familiar in his mind. Each person looks different, and in that same way, to Emrys, their magic feels different as well. He reached out to make a final grab at the cane that he’d located by the sound of it’s being drug away. Missed. Cursed. Then the sound of the trashcan rolling and he could only guess what was happening. Emrys rolled out of the way, his shoulder brushing the light pole.

He reached up and grabbed the pole, pulling himself to his feet. He’d not made a sound yet. What was the point in pleading with someone who wasn’t likely to stop but rather get more amusement out of the pleading?

Logan hadn't moved his lips once, either. He didn't see a reason to. Would he just talk to mock the man? Would he simply open his mouth to say something snide? Surely, yes, that was Logan's style. Just... not this time. This was different, in a way. He was switching tactic, switching styles... finding out which one suited him best, and which one was most comfortable with which victim.

This was something he'd regret later... never had he used the same trick so many times. Maybe it'd become predictable by now?

Interesting, though. The trashcan sped up, rolling near the blind man's feet. Trying to knock him off his feet again?

Emrys stopped breathing entirely, sucking in air and holding it in his lungs. Listening. His breath interfeared with his hearing just slightly, barely at all, when he was breathing hard from fright. But every ounce of hearing now was essential. And other then the breathing, there was no sign of fear on the part of his face not covered by the blindfold.

The trashcan again? Wasn’t it getting old? As it rolled towards him he reached up and grabbed the pole behind him above his head and lifted his feet off the ground until he heard the clatter of metal on metal. He put his feet on top of the can and pushed out so that it rolled away, then dropped his feet to the ground again. Fear was written on his unseen eyes. He praised anything saintly that the other, the unseen attacker could not see that fear.

Predictable move? Yes. Stupid move? Well, not... quite. Maybe by Emrys' standards, but not by Logan's. He had him busy with the trashcan again. Hm. But that was good... gave him time to try something else.

Something else? Let's see how he likes this trick.

No, not an invisible hand... invisble jaws, digging somewhere near Emrys' neck. Did he have enough time to relax from those, too?

He'd have enough time. See, Emrys mind worked at different places, lie someone who can pat their head and rub their stomach at the same time. While one part of his mind was busy kicking away the trashcan and listening carefully, the other alerted him that his neck realy hurt.

Was he...being bite? He slapped a hand to the invisable Jaws, punching at the air, testing you see. Could hurting the invisable body part hurt the person who created it? He tended to his muscles with that magical hand beneath his skin, messaging them into utter relaxation.

"Damn you."

The first words spoken and they were a whisper. And angry rather then scared, though his eyes were still fearful.

"I should be offended." Emrys should recognize that voice. Smooth as silk, but now... with an added factor. It seemed to play into that sort of 'sly as a fox' tone, as his delicate features twitched into his infamous smirk. What a smirk it was, too. It brought out his face in a sort of dark way... like he was as charming as a venomous snake.

"It's much too bad that you can't see, huh?" Ouch, low blow. Well, who said Logan was one to play fair? As he said this, the tone was tainted, somewhat, by hurt. Not emotional hurt... pain.

The teeth didn't relax, however, but Logan straightened. Apparently, Emrys was right in his assuming that attacking the invisible body part hurt him too.

"Who said you could do that, huh?" Logan was still taunting him, you see.

Emrys let face lift up towards the voice, shock and horror crossing his features. And pain. But unlike Logan's pain, his pain was emotional. But a kid? Beating the hell out of him magiclly? This was rediculous. And unbelievable.

Had there been no blindfold, his eyes would be wide and staring at the kid.

"you little brat!"

Ok, so makeing a kid that's beating you up and has an upper hand on you angry is sheer stupidity. Emrys let a flow of extrem relaxation into his muscles, making them so lax that, were it his leg he wouldn't be able to remain standing. He than began to beat at the invisable teeth sunk into his shoulder. Obviously it was hurting the kid, with the pain in his voice.

Logan wasn't so stupid as to let Emrys continue beating on his magical force... no, he couldn't let him do that... couldn't let himself be hurt. But the impulse to hurt him was so very strong... that he almost didn't care. His mind was running on that 'kill him' mode that it usually took when he got into this routine of hurting people.

At which point, the teeth unlatched themselves, and Logan, not used to that, staggered back a few steps before retorting. "Oh, so you've figured it out, have you? How nice."

Then, something Logan doesn't often to, he ran towards Emrys, purposefully. Hmmm.. will he still be wounded from those teeth? I wonder.

Upon his shoulder being released, his arm went slack with the immense relaxed muscle and he quickly retracted much of that mental message, sending feeling and strength back into his arm and shoulder.

Only too late did he hear the footsteps of that snot nosed kid running towards him. He tried to step to the side and found that he couldn't, his shoulder hitting the lightpole beside him.

Throwing up his arms to sheild himself in the only way he knew possible to protect himself from this he turned his face away from the kid, ready to feel pain.

God please don't have a weapon.

That would suck.

Not only did Logan run at him, he threw himself at him, his body wieght enough to throw most of any person ont the ground with ease. It was more of a violent guesture than it was an affectionate tackle, and Emrys should realize that by now.

Emrys should indeed be feeling pain... but Logan didn't have any weapons. Besides his hands and feet.

The kid came down ontop of Emrys as he toppled backwards because when Logan's force hit him, Emrys wrapped his arms over the other's arms trying to keep his balance. He let out a startled yelp at hitting the pavment and immediatly attempted to roll to the side.

He felt more vunerable, as he always did when he couldn't see and it was causeing more problems then usual. And frustrated that he could see to put up a good enough fight.

He drew back his hand and let a fist fly forward, hoping to strike something. To hell with not beating up kids.

Well, Logan was glad that Emrys broke his fall, else it would be him that would be hitting the pavement right now. He didn't feel bad for hurting Emrys right now, though. He couldn't care. This victim didn't matter... he would just relieve all his anger by maybe killing him. No... too messy. But what to do, then? Just have some fun with the victim, definitely.

Before he had a chance to think about anything, he was hit by a fist. Wincing, he raised his ahnd to do likewise.

Emrys knew that if he hit the kid that a) his fist would come back hurting and B) that the favor would definatly be returned, so as soon as he felt the shock of his hand making contact, he retreated the fist and tried again to roll away.

He found now that he couldn't roll away, he was trapped beneath Logan's body. How strange that a teen age kid was nearly a match for his own size. Emrys was of course taller and weighed a bit more, but neither of these by much. He didn't make it out of the way of the fist and was struck in the face. He whinced and balled his fist again. He was too scared to send out his mind to message the spot where he was hit.

Even if logan weighed less than he did, he made it a point to stay on top of Emrys, and even though his hand was small, curled around Emrys' now balled fist, and tried to force it down into the ground.

"Do you enjoy masochism?" he asked, through gritted teeth.

His fist pushed backwards he fought to bring it up while balling and readying the other fist. But stopped short in the action being caught off gaurd by the kids question.

what the fuck does that mean?

He didn't bother to show he was confused (besides not fully balling the other fist before swinging a cupped hand in another attempt to hit the kid) he simply snarled out:

"Get off me you little punk!"

Logan didn't seem to care too much about getting off Emrys. He didn't wan't to, so he wouldn't.

Logan also seemed to ignore the fact that he was hit again, besides a little wincing. He got nearer to his face, and whispered in his ear, "give me a reason... other than you want.." he contemplated hitting him again.. "beggars can't be choosers... and you, my lovely, are a beggar..." such nothings he was whispering, but they were plenty logical. He was speaking to him like he was a delicate flower.

Just to change it up a little... "You'd be good in bed, I think... for a blind kid." Logan giggled, in a taunting fashion.

(Dude. I so didn't expect that of Logan. Weird post. Mesorries.)

In bed? What bed? Heh. I have two characters in which have never had nor really entertained the thoughts of sex, one would be Morose, the other, Emrys.

At this, Emrys' cheeks burned hot, blushing red. The blush ran up under the blindfold and even ran over his scars. He'd never blushed so deeply. That was a shock, and not one of the good sorts.

Emrys fist swung back and he hit the kid again while kicking his feet, tangling them into Logan's legs and rolling. He was trying to tangle his legs so that when he rolled over he wouldn't simply roll away but would roll ontop. Better chance of escape when you're in charge of the situation.

"You sick little..."

He completed that thought with a few very colorful words that methinks are too colorful for print. I didn't know Emrys even knew how to talk like that!


((S'ok. It was...interesting.))

It could’ve been the fact that he thought Emrys was adorable and was enjoying his struggle, or it could’ve been the fact that he enjoyed seeing anyone in pain, or blush as furiously as Emrys just did, but suddenly, Logan found this to be getting very interesting. Knowing Logan, however, it was probably a delicious combination of both of those factors.

Well, he’d certainly been caught off guard when he’d been hit again, and Emrys tangled their legs together. He’d almost been fast enough, though, to stop him from rolling over, but not quite.

And, instead of hitting Emrys back, Logan just laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. “What’s the matter? Flustered?”

Apparently, it couldn’t get more amusing than this.

Emrys used their legs to roll on top of Logan and proceeded to blindly let his fists play. The first thrust with his scar covered hands was into the pavement, complete miss, that resulted in bloody knuckles and illicted a painful yelp from Emrys. The second blow was with the other hand. He used the bloodied hand to search for the kids face and aimed another punch.

Meanwhile, he was attempting to untangle their legs before Logan could use the same trick on him. And to free his legs so he could get up and away. But once free, what would he do? He couldn’t run anywhere. One, Logan had mind-kicked his cane somewhere where Emrys didn’t know. He’d moved around so much in this fight that he couldn’t even trace the direction he’d come from. Two, he couldn’t see where he was going anyways. It was hopeless.