"Waiting," Keith & Logan story
A little "Veronica Mars" character study, very short, Keith and Logan, post season two finale.
Keith’s last in-depth chat with Logan nearly ended with Keith’s fist in Logan’s face. It did end with an ultimatum: “You’re leaving now, and you’re never coming back.”
So Keith is, understandably, a little surprised to see Logan at his door. He knew Veronica was seeing Logan again-it would have been hard to miss-but he’d thought she was smart enough to remind her boyfriend that her father wasn’t squeamish about exercising his second-amendment rights. Apparently not, because Logan is standing on the porch, squinting expectantly at Keith, hands shoved in the pockets of his track jacket.
“Logan,” he says warily.
“Mr. Mars,” Logan replies with a nod. When Keith doesn’t move, hand still on the door, ready to close it at any moment, he adds, “Veronica asked me to meet her here.”
“She’s not back yet.”
Keith waits, unwilling to be moved.
“We’re supposed to go to that drive-in movie theater they just restored in San Diego,” Logan offers. He rocks slightly on the balls of his feet, his only sign of weakness.
“I see.” He weighs his options, sizing Logan up. “You might as well come in and wait.”
“Thanks.” Logan follows him in, and sits on the striped armchair, hands gripping his knees.
Keith returns to the bills he was paying at the kitchen counter. He can feel Logan’s eyes on him, waiting, no doubt, for judgment. Keith doesn’t mind making him wait for it. He writes his last check and seals it up in an envelope, adding it to the stack of envelopes he’s accumulated this evening. Finally, sweeping his bills into a neat pile, he fixes a stern eye on Logan and says, “So, you and my daughter.”
Logan is still squinting at him, a pained sort of searching gaze. Keith can’t help wondering what his game is. He used to think he knew, saw Logan as a reckless thrill-seeker engaged in the idle rebellion of overprivileged teenagers: limo parties and fistfights and benders while his parents were away. But in the past year, Keith has had the opportunity to glimpse something else in Logan, something not quite so shallow. He’s not exactly gratified to find out that Logan Echolls has hidden depths, especially since he’s not sure he likes what he sees there. There’s a stillness in Logan, and whether it’s born of rage or valor or hopelessness Keith can’t tell. It’s the sort of cold calm he’s seen in jumpers, the moment before they step off the window ledge. Not the most comforting trait for his daughter’s current suitor.
“I-” Logan falls silent again. He flexes his hands around his knees, and Keith can see that his shoulders are tense. “That night . . . I’m not proud of the way I acted.”
Keith is silent, watching Logan’s knuckles become whiter and whiter.
“There’s no excuse for it,” Logan adds.
“No, there isn’t,” Keith says slowly.
“I just- I don’t want you to think that’s the best I’ve got to offer.”
Maybe Keith takes pity on him. Because Keith sees something else in Logan’s demeanor, on top of that unsettling stoicism. There’s a strangled, guileless air that Keith has noticed about him when it comes to Veronica, as if he’s trying, sincerely trying, to do the right thing. Keith isn’t sure Logan’s capable of doing the right thing, or even knowing what that is, but he can appreciate an honest effort. Or maybe there’s some other reason entirely why Keith says, “Yeah, well, I liked that lamp,” and leaves it at that.
They sit in silence until Veronica arrives, throwing out apologies. As Veronica hustles Logan out the door, he catches Keith’s eye, and Keith thinks he can see something grateful in the boy’s gaze. Then the door swings shut behind them and Keith is, once again, alone in the apartment.
Keith’s last in-depth chat with Logan nearly ended with Keith’s fist in Logan’s face. It did end with an ultimatum: “You’re leaving now, and you’re never coming back.”
So Keith is, understandably, a little surprised to see Logan at his door. He knew Veronica was seeing Logan again-it would have been hard to miss-but he’d thought she was smart enough to remind her boyfriend that her father wasn’t squeamish about exercising his second-amendment rights. Apparently not, because Logan is standing on the porch, squinting expectantly at Keith, hands shoved in the pockets of his track jacket.
“Logan,” he says warily.
“Mr. Mars,” Logan replies with a nod. When Keith doesn’t move, hand still on the door, ready to close it at any moment, he adds, “Veronica asked me to meet her here.”
“She’s not back yet.”
Keith waits, unwilling to be moved.
“We’re supposed to go to that drive-in movie theater they just restored in San Diego,” Logan offers. He rocks slightly on the balls of his feet, his only sign of weakness.
“I see.” He weighs his options, sizing Logan up. “You might as well come in and wait.”
“Thanks.” Logan follows him in, and sits on the striped armchair, hands gripping his knees.
Keith returns to the bills he was paying at the kitchen counter. He can feel Logan’s eyes on him, waiting, no doubt, for judgment. Keith doesn’t mind making him wait for it. He writes his last check and seals it up in an envelope, adding it to the stack of envelopes he’s accumulated this evening. Finally, sweeping his bills into a neat pile, he fixes a stern eye on Logan and says, “So, you and my daughter.”
Logan is still squinting at him, a pained sort of searching gaze. Keith can’t help wondering what his game is. He used to think he knew, saw Logan as a reckless thrill-seeker engaged in the idle rebellion of overprivileged teenagers: limo parties and fistfights and benders while his parents were away. But in the past year, Keith has had the opportunity to glimpse something else in Logan, something not quite so shallow. He’s not exactly gratified to find out that Logan Echolls has hidden depths, especially since he’s not sure he likes what he sees there. There’s a stillness in Logan, and whether it’s born of rage or valor or hopelessness Keith can’t tell. It’s the sort of cold calm he’s seen in jumpers, the moment before they step off the window ledge. Not the most comforting trait for his daughter’s current suitor.
“I-” Logan falls silent again. He flexes his hands around his knees, and Keith can see that his shoulders are tense. “That night . . . I’m not proud of the way I acted.”
Keith is silent, watching Logan’s knuckles become whiter and whiter.
“There’s no excuse for it,” Logan adds.
“No, there isn’t,” Keith says slowly.
“I just- I don’t want you to think that’s the best I’ve got to offer.”
Maybe Keith takes pity on him. Because Keith sees something else in Logan’s demeanor, on top of that unsettling stoicism. There’s a strangled, guileless air that Keith has noticed about him when it comes to Veronica, as if he’s trying, sincerely trying, to do the right thing. Keith isn’t sure Logan’s capable of doing the right thing, or even knowing what that is, but he can appreciate an honest effort. Or maybe there’s some other reason entirely why Keith says, “Yeah, well, I liked that lamp,” and leaves it at that.
They sit in silence until Veronica arrives, throwing out apologies. As Veronica hustles Logan out the door, he catches Keith’s eye, and Keith thinks he can see something grateful in the boy’s gaze. Then the door swings shut behind them and Keith is, once again, alone in the apartment.