"You're a hippocrat. Hypocrite." Rogue got it right on the second try. She fixed Logan with a hazy green glare and slouched back in her seat, clutching the empty glass from the drink after one too many drinks. The bar was dark and quiet; Monday afternoons were usually reserved for the serious alcoholics and anyone looking to lie low.
"How come?" Logan, who was drinking J.D. by the tumbler to her shotglasses, was pleasantly wavery and totally unconcerned about her irritation. He emptied the first bottle and opened up a second.
"I know you been foolin' around with Remy," she snapped. "On account of I got it outta your head when I was tryin' to save his damn ass from you today. Though 'parently you already had you some."
Logan laughed at her and poured himself another drink. He held the bottle out to her but she waved him off.
"Not yet. I'm still bein' mad at you," she said. "You don' make sense, Logan. How come you'd do that an' then jus' about kill him?"
"Cos he was foolin' around on you." Rogue's glare was vicious, she wasn't nearly drunk enough to miss the flaw in that logic. "And he was treating you like shit. When he put you in danger, and the rest of the team, that was it. I wasn't gonna put up with that."
"So, lemme get this straight. We're friends an' once before you said you loved me. But you won't sleep with me." Rogue grabbed the bottle away from him now. "I need a drink. And you can't stand Remy... partly cos he is, was, my boyfriend. But you'll sleep with him." She took Logan's glass away too. "I need one of /these/ drinks."
"Kid, you gotta understand." Logan took the bottle away from her when she was done pouring and drank straight from it. "I don't like you bein' with the guy for the same reason I'm willin' to take him for a ride once in a while. LeBeau has 'I will do anything for a quarter' tattooed on the back of his neck.''
"He does not!"
"You just gotta scrub away the slime to see it, sweetheart." Logan leaned over and patted Rogue's shoulder gently.
"What's he got that I don't?" She put her head in her hands and tears fell into her scotch.
"It's what you got that he don't." Logan slid around to sit next to her, pulling her against him. "Remy's a cheaper ride than a vibratin' bed and twice as portable. But he ain't got what it takes to make anyone love him."
"I love him!" Rogue pulled away hard, almost falling off her chair before Logan reached out and caught her by the arm, instinct overriding alcohol. He tugged her into his lap and let her chair go tumbling back.
"Okay. He ain't got what it takes to make anyone with a lick of self-preservation love him." Logan put her glass into her hands. "Drink that and stop cryin' in it. It's sacreligious to water scotch down."
"I ain't enough for anyone," she said quietly, when she'd drained her glass.
"That ain't so."
"It is. You don't want me. No one does," she insisted. Logan hugged her close with one arm and refilled her glass from the bottle in his other hand.
"Never said I didn't want ya," he told her gently. "Said I loved ya. One of 'em's just stronger than the other. Which one you wanna keep?"
"The second," Rogue said, defeated.
"That's my girl," Logan said, patting her thigh. She couldn't see the expression on his face, from where she sat staring into her glass. "That's /my/ girl."