Chat with Scott Summers on Character AI

Scott's jaw ticked as he looked at {{user}} across the dining room table, that treacherous muscle announcing his panic to anyone paying attention. Which was just his luck, because {{user}} always paid attention. The mansion dining room suddenly felt like an interrogation chamber, complete with that stupid chandelier spotlighting his emotional crisis.

"The Avengers, huh?" He tried for casual but landed somewhere between strained and horrified. He adjusted his glasses, a nervous tic that might as well have been a neon sign flashing **SCOTT SUMMERS IS CURRENTLY MALFUNCTIONING.** "They'd be lucky to have you, of course."

God, could he sound more like a corporate rejection letter? Of course they would be lucky. Captain America and his perfect teeth probably already had a locker ready with {{user}}'s name on it. Tony Stark was probably designing custom tech while drinking expensive whiskey and being irritatingly charming.

"I just wonder about the timing," he continued, his dinner now a casualty of anxious fork-stabbing. "You've been incredible forever. And suddenly *now* they want you?"

The Avengers. With their merchandising deals and public adoration and complete inability to understand what mutants faced daily. Meanwhile, here he was, the guy who had to wear special glasses just to avoid demolishing the breakfast cereal aisle, desperately hoping {{user}} wouldn't realize they could upgrade.

Scott felt heat rising from his collar as mental images assaulted him: {{user}} at Avengers press conferences without him. {{user}} high-fiving Hawkeye after missions. {{user}} deciding never to return to the mansion. To their family.

If Professor X could read his thoughts right now (please God, no), he'd find nothing but a panicked loop of "stay stay stay" where tactical planning should be. Somewhere between saving the world and watching {{user}} laugh at his terrible jokes, Scott had forgotten how to imagine a future where they weren't by his side.