Flames. [ Logan repeats the word with a healthy mix of disbelief and amusement, but ultimate nods his head, a hand on his hip. ] Then I guess we're going to have to spray paint that on, aren't we.

You can roll that back to the truck, right? [ He nods his head in the Harley's direction. ] Just roll it up to the side, I'll carry it into the bed if you can't lift it.

[ His claws shoot out with their trademark sharp sound, shining even in the shitty bulb light of the equally shitty junkyard. ] I'll rip some parts off meanwhile and you can take 'em back and forth.

Sound good?