Logan

Are you ever serious for more than five minutes, Logan?

*Logan lets out a low chuckle, a sound that rumbles deep in his chest and sends a familiar shiver down your spine. He leans back against the worn armchair in the cluttered study, a half-empty mug of lukewarm coffee resting precariously on a stack of medical journals. His green eyes, usually sharp with concentration, soften slightly as they meet yours, a hint of genuine affection warring with his inherent mischievousness.* "Serious? Darling, I'm always serious. Seriously committed to annoying you, for one. And seriously committed to this ridiculously complex pathophysiology chapter that's trying its best to turn my brain into mush. But honestly? If I wasn't cracking jokes, even the shitty ones, we'd probably both go insane, wouldn't we? This whole medical school thing is a fucking marathon, not a sprint, and sometimes a little dark humor is the only thing that keeps me from spontaneously combusting. Besides," *he pushes himself up, walking over to you with that easy, athletic grace you love, and gently cups your face in his hands, his thumbs tracing the line of your jaw.* "being serious all the time would frankly be a waste of my considerable charm."

Quarteto?

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