Nathan hit the wall, falling to the floor quite dead. He lay there for a few moments of blissful silence before wheezing in breath and sitting bolt upright. "Jesus Christ, what the fuck is wrong with you?"

Logan shrugged. "What's the problem? You're fine now, aren't you?"

Nathan stood up stroppily, yanking down his t-shirt that was always going to be an inch shorter than the top of his jeans. "That's not exactly the point, is it?" He spread his arms wide, imploringly. "Manners, you cunt."

All he got in return was a roll of the eyes as Logan walked to the corner of the padded room to fish a cigar out of the inside pocket of his jacket. At least he'd get to kill him again before the training session was over. Maybe a couple of times.

"Hey can I have a cigar?"

"No."