"I reckon if it ain't you or yours, there's no damn way you can trace who that is. Besides, woulda just said, it's a good song." Logan didn't particularly want to terrify the man, but that didn't also mean he was entirely against doing so. It was always good, is his mind, to keep up a certain reputation. Made it all the more easier to scare the suits when he needed to. Rather than directly answer the man and his concerns, and questions, immediately, he instead chased the scant remaining food around on his plate for a few long moments, scraping up the scraps of his meal before pushing the plate away.

"Seems like the sort of place I'd expect you folks to be watching all 'round the clock anyway, lest some poor mutant kid gets the idea he matters to people beyond some far off island he's never heard, starts a movement, gets people thinking." Logan tapped the table repeatedly, before he stood, flexing the knuckles of his hands as he did so. A reflexive action, feeling the shards of adamantium beneath his skin, rearing to be set free. Men in suits always made him itch like that.

"If you're lying about Jubilee, either your or whoever fed you that line, I'll be lodging a complaint." The tone with which Logan spoke the words instead suggested he'd be lodging something sharp and painful rigth up someone smug and superior. "You can tell me more about what some crazy alien is ranting about Jean Grey on the trip down the mountain. Give me five." Without another sign of recognition, Logan turned to head further into the cabin. As was his nature, he always kept a go-bag ready, it took him less than half that time to acquire it and sling it on, he additional minutes he spent gazing into the mirror of his bathroom. He'd let himself get reasonably rugged again, even if he hadn't quite devolved into the wild thing that the X-men had originally found. With a growl, the claws of his right hand extended, puncturing through his own flesh with a flash of pain that one could never quite get used to. Shaving raw wasn't much next to that, the worst of the tangles and errant length in his beard trimmed away on the sharpened edge of his own blades. He rinced away the blood and hair that fell from him, watching again in the mirror as the minor knicks upon his features healed and sealed before his vision. He spat once in the sink, before turning. 

Guess they'd dragged him back in again. Despite everything, he still needed to find new ways to say no.

Back outside he caught the nervous mortal human still waiting, and grunted to him.

"Lets see if with me guiding it doesn't take us all day to roll back down a bloody hill."