just--logan:
[ The name certainly took her aback, and even caused a look of confusion to cross delicate features as she quickly filed through the archive of names to try and discern who he was talking about; it wasn’t as if she had ever been in the business of calling him other than the name she spat out in spite. ]
“Erik? Who in the fuck……?”
[ Then it dawned upon her, understanding as ugly and vehement as anything, and her jaw clenched violently while she tried to fight the urge to punch the kid in the mouth simply on principle. ]
“How the hell do ya know Magneto?” “What the fuck is goin’ on here today?”
[ Was he a mutant? Logan wanted answers and she wanted them now-, more than anything she wanted to talk to Hank to sort out this mess but it appeared that, wherever she was, it wasn’t where she was supposed to be. ]
”Listen, kid-, I need to talk to Hank ‘cause this fucked up universe is bullshit ‘n I just wanna get out ‘a here.”
[ Talking another singular step forward she leaned into him and bared her teeth, sharpened incisors gleaming proudly as her next words came out in a sort of growl.]
”—Where is Hank McCoy?”
[ Hank's eyes violently narrowed over in a condensed rage. Magneto? Oh what a Brotherhood induced statement. Erik was just as human as the cruelty of humanity overtook him. He was nothing above. More than likely a man so buried below. ... They'd been allies once. His fingers clenched tightly into the calloused flesh of his palms. ... He may have one day called him friend. His voice resembled that of ice as he could feel the slow rush of absolute rage crawl up his body, causing the jugular vein of his neck to start pounding, nearly irrationally so. So cold, a part of himself he'd worked so hard to bury under facade. ]
" ... Erik. Oh I know Erik. Magneto? Pfft -- He is nothing. Cacophony in hopes to plan his war. -- He is nothing but a filthy traitor."
[ His hands shook in disgusting rage. The coldness touching him was sending a fear shooting up his whole body. He was scaring himself. His face suddenly dropped to turn a sheet white, nearly sickly. Suppression had pulled him under, his physicality may not have fazed, but the sudden rage still lived. Was this what exile did to him? Was this what the underlying war was turning him into? Something he cowered to. His eyes turned a slight tint red as the rage had soaked in the sting of the tears of his reaching towards salvation of himself. ]
"... I'm done with games. I'm never going to support you. Never. You believe in utter genocide and they call me the Beast.."
[ His words spat out in sarcastic twinge. His head starting to hammer on his skull as the woman leaned into him, baring teeth like incisors. Calm McCoy... This isn't you... Dig yourself out... Be rational... Please... His complexion started to become not white, but drained, like he life had been sucked right out of him. His veins coursing dangerously as his toes curled inside his leather loafers. His teeth suddenly inverting in, his lips pressing together to the point of pressing into colorless lines. ]
"-- I am Hank McCoy. ... And I can promise you, if your motley crew even dares to touch those children, I will be personable enough to rip you to shreds myself."
[ Then suddenly, his eyes flashed a sudden yellow, his pump underneath his suit overcoat pumping serum back up his body to force reversion. The sudden burst nearly buckling him down to his knees, his hands pressing fully into the brick wall behind him, fingers digging about the corners. ]















