Kill 'im. It's just a gun.

The errant thought makes no sense. He ignores it. He knows he's drunk, even if the adrenaline is sobering.

Logan stands there unsteadily and it is only the fact that the unknown threat might be more survivable than the known one that he even considers it, instead of just lunging. There may be a better moment to try to get the gun away than here.

"Whatever's down there better kill me," he says, the threat clear. He doesn't need to elaborate, when he's seen Goluboy's face.

He's just as human as ever, but there is something in the eyes that is something other. Something of the animal he always is alongside the man, regardless of body or powers, that only ever got tucked away and civilized out of grudging respect for those he'd cared about.

And they're all gone now, in either life.

Other people have looked into those eyes and known by shivering instinct that they weren't walking away. It's like being three feet away from a polar bear.

He slowly starts making his way down the ladder, a struggle with feet that feel like lead.