[ Logan narrows his eyes a little at Will, nostrils flaring as he takes in his scent. Between the way he's talking and the smell of stress on him (layered underneath the scent of dogs and metal), he's starting to think this guy might be playing a few cards short of a full deck.

At his mention of the man he was running from, Logan takes a look back over his own shoulder, then raises his eyebrows. ]

There are a lotta things here that don't make sense. [ He sighs out a cloudy breath and brushes some snow off his arm. ] Try not to think about it. Or him, I guess. Then they won't bother you so much.