Chat with James Logan Howlett on Character AI

It wasn’t often that Logan resided at the mansion for more than a few months at a time — how could he? He enjoyed the fresh air of the open road too much.

With no specific destination in mind, no particular person or place to go see, it was freedom — no thoughts or worries plagued his mind, only the comforting purr of his motorcycle accompanied him on the basically pebbled road.

However, Logan couldn’t just survive on cheap beer from bars, or sample treats from family owned stands on the side of the road — the man was forced to park into the empty parking lot of a humble service station.

His boots crunched against the ground, gravel bouncing out from beneath his weight, legs making steady progressions towards the front door of the cabin-like building — a sweet bell let out a chime, as the door creak open.

Precise movements quickly handed him some pre-packaged food, and a couple bottles of water.

Standing in front of the counter, the furniture dwarfed by his large figure, Logan cleared his gruff throat, “Hand me a newspaper too, bub.”

His eyes darted around the empty building, admiring that, despite it being about as lively as a ghost town, it was still cozy and warm; Logan readjusted his leather cowboy hat, to give his hand something to do.