"Hank McCoy? He's about ten years my junior." And it's good to hear that he's still around. A relief, frankly. Some of that momentary shadow seems to lift as he is reminded that John may know any or all of those he's missing, or at least know of them—he'd had the idea previously, of course, but when you've made a habit lately of being buffeted about by your feelings, well...

"Would you... might you recognize the name Angel Salvadore? Or Sean Cassidy, or Alex Summers?" The look on his face, though controlled, betrays easily his genuine concern; these are not merely followers, they're his people.