He had been away from Porta Inferni for almost too long, and Logan knew his Lady was not the most patient of souls.  He had done what he had set out to do, and he was sure he would please her with what had occurred.  Drawing the runes on the floor in blood, he murmured the incantation that would take him to the place he now considered home.  A rush of cool wind came from the portal, blowing out the candles in the tavern's room.  Logan stepped through, leaving a dead man behind.  In a way, the man had gotten what he wanted, just not in the way he had expected.  Wording was a thing that so many were not careful about.

Stepping into an antechamber of the mansion, Logan breathed a deep sigh of relief.  It was good to return here.  He relieved himself of his weapons, knowing he would not need them, and the cloak, not wishing to drop blood on his Lady's floor.  Logan was a gentleman after all.  Making his way to a parlor, he got the attention of one of the many mute attendants.  "Wine for myself, whatever my Lady is in the mood to drink, and please inform the Dark Mother that her servant Logan has returned, and that I would like an audience at her convenience," he said, before settling in a chair and making himself comfortable.  It could be awhile before she came, and Logan had absolutely no desire to interrupt whatever she might be doing.

He stared into the fire, composing the words in his mind.  There were plans he had laid that had yet to come to fruition, and others that had already come to their end.  The soul in the pouch at his waist was one such of those ended plans.  Hopefully she would be pleased with him, though Logan knew he had to be prepared for her possible displeasure.  But it was part of the thrill of his choice to serve the Lady, and it was a choice he would make again.  It was entirely possible there would be a day he would come to regret that choice, but hopefully not for some time.