Sabres for surgicalcynicism

There's a part of Logan that knows he should wait longer to heal, but the stitches are out, and he doesn't intend to use that arm anyway. It has nothing to do with wanting an excuse to see Chishiya again. Or spar. Or just do something active again.

Chishiya is directed to a private training room. One Logan has used often enough at this stage to know that it's safe. A good choice. No one will disturb them here. Besides, it's well lit and out of the way.

Two bags sit to one side while Logan stretches to work out his anxious energy. This is the first time he's not wearing anything like a suit. A fitted short sleeved shirt, and loose trousers tucked into boots with thin soles. All black, of course. An unintentional opposite to Chishiya's preferred colour, chosen long before they met.

He perks up when Chishiya appears, standing straight and smiling, hands tucked neatly behind his back. "You didn't reconsider."

As if Chishiya would. As if they don't both know that he wouldn't.