「 The Professor & I 」VOLUME II

(200) Adamantium

Lynn's POV

"Hey," Scott greeted nonchalantly as Jean promptly materialized in the round aperture.

"Am I interrupting something serious?" Jean prodded warily as she stepped in hesitantly.

"What is it, Jean?" I enquired with a kind smile.

"I've performed the X-Rays on Logan. And the Professor wants all of us at the briefing," Jean announced casually.

Scott sluggishly stood from his seat while I pivoted my joystick, swiftly driving my chair out of the ward, and followed closely behind Jean with Scott trailing along towards the meeting room where Charles and Storm had already gathered before the backlit screen pegged with a large negative illustrating the internal structure of Logan's full body, together with several close-ups and cross sections of his skull and hands.

I've missed you, beautiful, Charles teased, taking my hands and pecked my temple as I came within his reach.

You're such a flirt, Professor, I retorted bashfully, blood rushing to my cheeks in the moment of zealous sentiment.

But I've missed you too, I gladly admitted as I planted a kiss to his lips and he happily accepted his gift.

Meticulously rubbing my cool palms, Charles kept them warm in the safety of his grasp as we quietly watched Scott marching slowly into the sophisticated area. Very much unlike his mentor, Scott had all his emotions, or the lack of them, exposed on his face. His monotonous paces, matched impeccably with his bland expression, travelled with him haphazardly across the room and he unenthusiastically sat himself next to Storm on the other side of the table.

He doesn't like Logan around, does he? Charles remarked, gazing at me astutely.

You have no idea, I taunted, flashing him a perceptive smirk.

"The metal is an alloy called adamantium. Supposedly indestructible. It's been surgically grafted to his entire skeleton," Jean explained, the discrete click of her heels accenting her professional articulation as her slim figure cloaked in a full red ensemble strutted confidently along the board, gesturing to the array of black and white images.

"How could he have survived a procedure like that?" Storm investigated in a bewildered tone.

"His mutation," Charles answered with certainty.

"He has uncharted regenerative capability which enables him to heal rapidly," I elaborated and the kids looked at us strangely, clearly astounded by our knowledge of our guest.

"This also makes his age impossible to determine," Jean concurred in a solemn tone but her mind lurked with a contradicting tinge of cheekiness.

"He could very well be older than you, Professor," Jean added playfully, shooting me a mischievous smile.

I genuinely resisted my urge to giggle, yet some parts of it still spewed out unrestrained, causing Charles to glare at me with a feigned annoyed expression that immediately faltered into a wide grin the moment I kissed him an apology.

"Who did this to him?" Storm examined with a disgusted expression and Jean hung her head low towards the ground.

Crossing her arms tightly in front of her well-endowed bust, Jean bit her bottom lip agonisingly and her utterly distressed frame practically screamed of the self-reproach quickly invading her veins. Blatantly highlighting her incompetence to alleviate any of his unwarranted suffering, the blame gradually escalated into hate for the ultimate culprit who cruelly inflicted all these unnecessary torture onto a man whom with she shared a special connection.