In the middle of Charles' words, Logan snorts breathily in wordless tough guy amusement, eyes steered down towards his own knuckles - they're as clear of scars as they tend to be, despite metal splitting through his skin. He can hear the old man in this young guy's words, and an eyebrow raises up at the announcement that this ain't the first time.

"I dunno," he says, lifting his eyes to observe ~Erik~ once more, for all that he listens and responds more to Charles than he is interested in any words that happen to come out of Magneto's fucking mouth. His own almost smiles, and even that much isn't particularly pleasant. "Maybe it's my turn to bother the pair've you. It's a small city."

A glance, then, the telepath's way, and he can't quite fix him with the same steely stare, but his voice is no less wry and unforgiving as he adds; "And trust me - my problem isn't you." The ', professor' at the end of that is bitten off before it can be said.