Logan senses her well before she approaches. There's not much of a wind in this place but it's enough to carry her scent, cool and metallic, along with the smell of the gun she carries. It would give him pause if he cared enough to worry about getting shot, but between the mirrors and the sky breaking and the world collapsing in on itself, he's not about to interrupt what he's doing for the sake of avoiding a confrontation.

He lets her come closer, as he pours more water over his head, letting it run down through his hair and over his shoulders as he measures the sound of her steps in the gravel and dirt. The way she moves and the weapon suggests she has martial training of some kind. Interesting.

She speaks and asks him a question. He ignores her long enough to scrub his wet palms over his face, then stands up and glances over at her. He recognises her voice as one of those who hadn't liked the idea of him drinking. She looks about as he'd expected from her scent, dressed to hunt or kill maybe, though a little younger than he would've pegged her for.

"Safe enough," he responds, returning his attention to his task. He walks out a little further into the stream until he can feel the pull of the water around his calves, then again stoops to splash water against his chest and belly.