The stoic expression he clings to doesn't make him any less of an open book, but since Erik isn't exactly familiar with him, perhaps that won't matter as much. (John hopes.) The pause before he answers is typical of the carefulness he's displayed so far. There is a little bit of coordination to be done with his answer, which, after all, treads by necessity some sensitive areas he inadvertently stomped across in their first conversation.
"Born in 1989, eventually I accidentally set my asshole dad on fire, had to run away for a while, and then I ended up at Xavier's Institute." Bam, first twelve years, that's sufficient, right? "Then that thing I mentioned happened. The kids getting abducted. After that, the Brotherhood made more sense. Not that I knew it existed before."
While he talks, he pushes the sleeve of his jacket up a little, reaching inside and tugging out the thing Magneto had had made for him, with the ignitor. He fastens it properly and sticks his hand out, palm up, inducing a little flame to rise from the center — just a little one.
"I was pretty young..." You know, like he's completely not anymore. "... but I guess it was just you and Mystique at that point so you took me along and taught me some stuff. Mostly," John concedes, wrapping his hand in fire and letting it crawl down his arm without any real reaction, "killing people stuff but also history, cause they do a shitty job of that in America, geography, some language basics."
He shrugs and extinguishes the fire before it gets too showy.
no subject
"Born in 1989, eventually I accidentally set my asshole dad on fire, had to run away for a while, and then I ended up at Xavier's Institute." Bam, first twelve years, that's sufficient, right? "Then that thing I mentioned happened. The kids getting abducted. After that, the Brotherhood made more sense. Not that I knew it existed before."
While he talks, he pushes the sleeve of his jacket up a little, reaching inside and tugging out the thing Magneto had had made for him, with the ignitor. He fastens it properly and sticks his hand out, palm up, inducing a little flame to rise from the center — just a little one.
"I was pretty young..." You know, like he's completely not anymore. "... but I guess it was just you and Mystique at that point so you took me along and taught me some stuff. Mostly," John concedes, wrapping his hand in fire and letting it crawl down his arm without any real reaction, "killing people stuff but also history, cause they do a shitty job of that in America, geography, some language basics."
He shrugs and extinguishes the fire before it gets too showy.