it was the day before Fourth of July, or night before that is. They had already bought plenty of fireworks, jubilee complaining that they even needed to buy any in the first place, accusing Scott of assuming she isn’t a good enough show. The night was quiet, nice day laying ahead. Everyone, or near everyone in the x-mansion had gone off to sleep, at least almost everyone. Logan stood in the kitchen, nursing a bottle of whiskey, hip leaned up against the counter. He wasn’t sleeping easy tonight, tried, failed. Liquor usually helped him pass out, even if the morning headache was a pain in his ass.