She does not know Bobby's face. She's never seen him, only heard his name. What she does know, what is familiar to her, is the sight of a billowing jet of flames obscuring the figure controlling them. This, she has seen before several times since arriving here. It's a leap of an assumption to make, granted, or it would be from somebody born at any other time in mutant history β but there are only so many left still alive in North America when she's from. The smallest handful of them, meaning each power is distinct and associated with one particular person.
Flames are Chico Fuego's signature move. Well, him and TomΓ s, but TomΓ s is from years later than the man she's heard of that makes ice.
She watches the memory impassively, with an acclimation to violence and horrific death that a child her age should not have. There isn't a flicker of expression on her blank mask of a face as she stares at Rogue, discerning.
She doesn't normally talk to strangers first. But curiosity compels her, because of a young man she's starting to think of like an older brother.
Her first words to Rogue are not a greeting, or an apology for seeing something she wasn't supposed to see. They're, "Why did he do it?"
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Flames are Chico Fuego's signature move. Well, him and TomΓ s, but TomΓ s is from years later than the man she's heard of that makes ice.
She watches the memory impassively, with an acclimation to violence and horrific death that a child her age should not have. There isn't a flicker of expression on her blank mask of a face as she stares at Rogue, discerning.
She doesn't normally talk to strangers first.
But curiosity compels her, because of a young man she's starting to think of like an older brother.
Her first words to Rogue are not a greeting, or an apology for seeing something she wasn't supposed to see. They're, "Why did he do it?"
Did the ice man deserve it?