"We'd better be getting copies of those files," Scott managed. He said it flatly, and his voice wasn't right and neither was his intonation, but he was going to leave it alone after that. Frankly, they could fight over that part later. Let Charles know, let Charles handle it.

Scott ran the school and the X-men but sometimes, just sometimes, being able to drop a problem like this in someone else's lap was nice.

Like when he had a cracked skull, a broken arm, and a probably punctured lung. And was still trying to fight through a sedative fog.

It was really nice, then. God, Charles should have found someone who was invulnerable to lead this fucking team. Someone who healed or hit hard or - There were options that were better than 'concussive blasts'. Bobby, maybe. No wait, Bobby couldn't lead a conga line.

Good news? He was so busy being stubborn about that, he didn't protest the method of transportation. It was a good idea. Faster. Would be better if he trusted these people further than he could throw them right now, but that was an intuitive kind of thing and Scott was ignoring it.

Allison, meanwhile, popped up with: "You know I'm here, right? And they didn't do anything to me. I don't need medical attention."