[He makes an odd expression, something halfway between a wince and a scowl, like he just tasted something particularly offensive, and shrugs noncommittally. Quentin is... undecided himself, honestly, regarding the whole "was it necessary" question. He's certain Krakoa would've fallen much earlier without X-Force's interference, and the laws existed for a reason, but... maybe there was something broken about Krakoa in the first place, if it required all this godawful shit to keep it safe. Or... "safe." Krakoa was good for mutants. It just wasn't good for all mutants.]
Depends who you ask. I searched every mind on the damn island trying to figure that one out.
[Quentin chooses to ignore the bit about the original X-Men. He can't imagine the big reveal of "hey Cyclops is my team leader, and he's actually not that bad" will pair all that well in this particular conversation and to this particular audience. That nugget will have to wait for another day. At least Quentin doesn't feel any crushing guilt around keeping that a secret. Just crushing desire-to-not-have-more-of-a-headache-than-he-already-does.]
All I know is we all had doubts. All of us. [He raises his eyebrows and tilts his head slightly in Julian's direction to indicate "yes, even you."] We just... I don't know, wanted it to work so badly we didn't care.
[Which... brings him to something that's been sticking in the back of his mental craw. For a while, actually. Well, ever since he got to the library and noticed Julian's lack of hands. It was what Julian said that bothered him.
Whatever, might as well go for it. Quentin turns his upper body part-way towards Julian to address him more directly, gesturing at his metal hands.]
Look. You're in line for the Crucible, right? You don't think that's a little fucked up? You toss yourself into about a dozen wood chippers for mutantkind, and they can't do you a solid? I mean, shit, I died a lot, but at least I never had to grovel for some kind of "honorable death" malarkey in front of everyone.
no subject
Depends who you ask. I searched every mind on the damn island trying to figure that one out.
[Quentin chooses to ignore the bit about the original X-Men. He can't imagine the big reveal of "hey Cyclops is my team leader, and he's actually not that bad" will pair all that well in this particular conversation and to this particular audience. That nugget will have to wait for another day. At least Quentin doesn't feel any crushing guilt around keeping that a secret. Just crushing desire-to-not-have-more-of-a-headache-than-he-already-does.]
All I know is we all had doubts. All of us. [He raises his eyebrows and tilts his head slightly in Julian's direction to indicate "yes, even you."] We just... I don't know, wanted it to work so badly we didn't care.
[Which... brings him to something that's been sticking in the back of his mental craw. For a while, actually. Well, ever since he got to the library and noticed Julian's lack of hands. It was what Julian said that bothered him.
Whatever, might as well go for it. Quentin turns his upper body part-way towards Julian to address him more directly, gesturing at his metal hands.]
Look. You're in line for the Crucible, right? You don't think that's a little fucked up? You toss yourself into about a dozen wood chippers for mutantkind, and they can't do you a solid? I mean, shit, I died a lot, but at least I never had to grovel for some kind of "honorable death" malarkey in front of everyone.