Disclaimer: These characters are not mine and I make no profit from them.
Notes: With thanks to lusmeilti and emmeredith for the beta. All idiocies are mine.
Logan found her in the X-Jet, with only the light above her on, reflected in the brown ponytail that was threatening to fall over her shoulder. She was wearing the tight uniform again, her gloved hands working the seatbelt's clasp. And he got it, but asked anyway.
"What you doing, kid?"
A quick movement—her head rising and eyes widening. He was a pro, she might— would have heard someone else approach, he knew she knew better now than to let her defenses down, even in the X-Jet hangar. Especially here.
"I'm practicing," she said.
He just stood there—the answer wasn't enough and his stillness let her know it.
"If I'm gonna be a member of this team… I know you don't think I deserve to wear this uniform yet… but I need to know for me that I can buckle myself in, at least.
"I had problems with opera gloves, Logan. These are leather and I… we're going to be flying into dan— stressful situations," the southern lilt and the little glare were cute, but the intent behind them was adamantium-hard. "So I'm practicing."
He came towards her then, kneeling by the seat as he took her hands up in his, the action forcing her to let the strap and buckle go.
"They weren't your gloves, and maybe these aren't flexible enough for you either. So let's get some new ones made. Chuck'll understand."
She clasped his hands back, a quick pressure that he would remember a while.
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