(no subject)
[ Rolling up to the venue in a motorbike, Logan thinks he's severely under...everything. Underdressed, undervehicled, underpaid. He's late, but he didn't want to be here for the photo ops, and he didn't want to arrive at the same time as his apparent boyfriend; it's not that he doesn't like Steve, quite the opposite really, but the thought of people asking him questions about their relationship after what happened at Steve's flat made him want to reach for his inhaler.
At least he brought it, along with a couple of other allergy meds in the messenger bag over his shoulder, because God knows what fancy food people eat and whether they'll kill him or not. Logan gives his name to the guy manning the guest list up front, laughs off the oh, you're Steve Rogers' man that he gets (he gets that too much, lately), and then enters the function room with a slow exhale of breath.
It's weird to be at one of these things without a press I.D., making it so Logan feels almost naked without it. But he remembers the table number he was assigned to and makes his way there, hoping Steve is at least seated with him.
Because hell, he doesn't get paid enough to be fake around these froufrou types. ]
At least he brought it, along with a couple of other allergy meds in the messenger bag over his shoulder, because God knows what fancy food people eat and whether they'll kill him or not. Logan gives his name to the guy manning the guest list up front, laughs off the oh, you're Steve Rogers' man that he gets (he gets that too much, lately), and then enters the function room with a slow exhale of breath.
It's weird to be at one of these things without a press I.D., making it so Logan feels almost naked without it. But he remembers the table number he was assigned to and makes his way there, hoping Steve is at least seated with him.
Because hell, he doesn't get paid enough to be fake around these froufrou types. ]