Second part of my fanfic!! ^^
As you can see, that was a very very short hiatus. Oh well. From Logan's POV, so he's mildly vulgar (:

Maybe it was a bad thing to talk to the girl.

I sigh and throw her a look across the dingy room and wonder if she'll freak out at the thought of me renting a room just for her. Maybe I should just leave her be and go back to the mansion.

But I can't leave her, not when she's like that. I want to take her to the mansion, get some help for her. Thing is, she needs to bloody wake up so I can ask her if she wants to go.

Just great.

***

Two days, one hour and twenty hellish minutes. I'm sitting on this godforsaken floor. And the kid's still asleep. I can't get to sleep, either. For some reason the kid would start screaming then the next moment, the lamp-shade's on fire. Why did I have to do this? I look up from the dirt-caked floor and consider her for the millionth time, then I make up my mind. Standing up, I haul her off the bloody bed and I carry her to the bike. Hell, if she falls off the bike, I'm so dead. Then I make up my mind. I can't take this anymore. And the thought of riding all the way back with this kid unconscious on my bike makes me feel uneasy.

So I find a payphone and call the mansion, something I swore myself not to do. Cherry on the cake: Summers picks up and makes his usual comments upon hearing my voice. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY BIKE?!" He yells into the receiver.

I ignore him as usual and tell him the problem I have with the girl, which makes him sneer. "So Wolvie can't rescue a little girl by himself. Right, I'm coming down. Where the hell are you, anyway?"

"Somewhere outside - " I begin, but his irritatingly righteous voice cuts me off.

"Oh. Outside a pub. Nothing new. Near the city?"

"No."

Summers curses and hangs up, but I know he'll be coming anyway. I draw a cigar and lean on a lamp post, lighting it and inhaling deeply, looking at the kid by the bike, still knocked out, leaning against the front wheel. Freida.

***

It's half a day later and Summers finally decides to show up in one of his pretty showcars. This time it's blue.

"Just how long did it take you to choose the goddamn car before coming?" I growl, throwing my eleventh cigar to the ground irritably.

"Hello to you, too," Summers says bitterly, and I wonder if he rolled his eyes behind those glasses.

"She's by the bike," I say helpfully, getting into the driver's seat of the car and messaging my temples. I'm exhausted.

"Logan, get out. Who's going to bring my bike back?" Summers whines.

"You?" I ask, and I see a glimmer of hope.

"GET OUT." Summers makes a move to remove his glasses. I admit, I don't want to be blown to Russia by him, so I rise grudgingly as he settles the girl into the passenger seat. "I'll see you at the mansion," he says, hops into the seat, and speeds off. Nice.

Cursing, I mount the bike and follow the cloud of dirt ahead of me, now slowly disappearing.

I should have stolen his car.