It's not so surprising that the other guy picked up on it. It's interesting that he not only recognised it, but thought to offer a warning -- as though he knows what it's like. Logan looks over at him for a beat, studying anew those broad shoulders, the hint of something familiar in his mannerisms that makes Logan feel, absurdly, at ease.

"Don't have to tell me twice, bub," he grouses after a moment, picking up the coffee and the coffee pot and carrying them over to the squat woodfired stove in the corner, cigar propped between two fingers of his hand. There's a deep sink and thankfully the pipes haven't frozen or burst yet, so he starts the water running, ignoring the way it rattles and grumbles out of the faucet.

"Feels like I'm walking around with my head stuffed with goddamn cotton wool," he continues as he separates the halves of the coffee pot and fills the lower with water. He sticks his stogie back in his mouth and glances back over a the new guy. "So what are you? Assume you're something, since you've got the balls to come looking for me."