Jean Grey rolled her eyes dramatically at Scott.
She pressed a pale, slender fingertip to his forehead and pushed aside the dull boy, who stood frozen in place, blocking the exit.
She strode out of the Legion's living quarters, her curvaceous figure swaying with even more abandon. Her thick, dark red hair whipped behind her, drawing the eyes of every Legionnaire on guard along the way.
Thud! Thud!
"Shit! What a useless idiot."
As Jean's figure disappeared down the corridor, Mr. Summers finally snapped out of it. He kicked the corner of the wall in embarrassment and cursed himself for his pathetic reaction.
He turned for one last look at the single-room dormitory, its alloy hatch now shut. Clothes were scattered all over Jean's room, and her open storage boxes had been left as they were. It looked more like Miss Laura's room.
Jean Grey, usually so elegant and refined, with her meticulous and orderly lifestyle, had seemed like a completely different person today. Especially those sultry, smoldering eyes and that haughty air of hers.
Scott let out a long breath, then followed in the direction Jean had gone.
The central heart of the Wolf Nest was known as the Throne Hall.
It was a magnificent palace steeped in the architectural style of ancient Greek mythology.
Imagine great pillars and a coffered dome forged from blue-black Vibranium ore and alloy, blending the cold aesthetics of machinery and metal with the solemn grandeur of a temple to the gods.
At the far end of the vast hall stood a solitary, high-backed throne forged entirely from Vibranium. It was the symbol of the Howlett family's supreme authority—and the only seat of its kind in the entire human superhuman world.
With her arms folded, Jean rested her slender hand beneath her chin and