NEAR THE END OF 1st MOVIE during Logan's recovery

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"Hey, Logan."

He was already into the kitchen when the female voice interrupted his wanderings. "What?" he asked, his tone bored and tired. He stuck his head back out of the kitchen so he could look into the den where the teens were gathered. There were eight of them spread out around the television on couches and the floor, but Rogue was the only one whose name he knew. One of the eldest of them, a dark-haired girl, was leaning over the back of the couch her eyes wide and innocent, her smile all keen flirtation.

"If the zombies came, would you protect us?" she asked.

He stared for a moment. "Zombies?"

She waved her hand at the TV screen enthusiastically. "Yeah, zombies. The walking dead with a hunger for human flesh."

Logan looked around at the lot of them. "Have you been down here all night?"

"Yeah."

"Watching movies about zombies?"

"Yeah."

"Don't you have classes to be at?"

"It's the weekend, Logan! Don't you pay attention?"

He shrugged, and turned back into the kitchen.

"Logan!"

He sighed, swinging his head back to see a begging pout that probably usually worked wonders for her. "What?"

"Would you protect us from the zombies?"

"There's no such thing as zombies."

"Or telepaths," one of the boys returned, deliberately trying to be a smart-mouth, but one with a point.

"There's no such thing as zombies," Logan repeated. And he resolutely stepped into the kitchen.

"You're trapped on a desert island with a hundred zombies," a boy's voice said eagerly. "You can only bring one thing."

"Napalm," the dark-haired girl answered immediately, tossing back her head for a handful of colored candy.

A few others laughed, obviously enjoying her answer as well as their game.

"No, definitely a chainsaw," another girl declared.

"Give me a good old-fashioned shotgun any day."

"What about you, Rogue?" a girl with laughter in her voice asked.

Rogue grinned, glancing at Logan as he came back out to the hallway with a soda and a cold sandwich. "I'd bring Logan."

"Logan doesn't believe in zombies."

"Doesn't mean he wouldn't do me better than napalm. You can run out of napalm. You can't run out of Logan."

There was an eruption of laughter and Logan glanced back to see Rogue grinning at him. Logan popped his claws out with a SNIKT that silenced the room. The kids that had been looking at him now quickly sat back down in their seats, eyes fixed anywhere but on him. Logan rubbed the blunt edge of a claw along the itch on his chin. "That's better," he murmured loud enough so everyone could hear. "I hate noisy brats."

He noticed that Rogue was still leaning over the arm of her chair, still looking at him, though her grin was now a pair of pursed lips, clearly an attempt to hide her amusement from the others. Her eyes were twinkling and Logan's lips twitched in response, glad to share the humor with someone. The kids were terrified. They didn't know any better, but to him and Rogue it was just an animal joke. He nodded to Rogue, and took another bite of his sandwich before heading back up the stairs, claws retreating back into his arms.