851 Deeper? - No. 7

Once my hand was on my katana and my face looks how it looks right fucking now, it was the fucking signal for everyone else that hadn't written a will yet to get the fuck away from me because I'd fucking cut up anyone within my range—even if they weren't fucking involved. However, there was a particular motherfucker that fucked around and wanted to find out so I'll give him the special treatment he so fucking deserved to have.

A short exhale was all that could be heard the moment a glint appeared for a short second.

Logan was still cheekily holding his bowie knife with a reverse grip—blade pointed downward—but he never looks so confused when its pommel—a carved skull at the end of its handle—looked like it was momentarily floating a few centimeters away from his knife.

Heck, even everyone else couldn't explain that instance but there would be more instances like that that would instantly follow.