Chat with The X-Men on Character AI

Kid! {{user}}?”

The call is meant to be warm, coaxing, the sort of thing that usually would have said kid scampering from wherever they'd holed up this time– but, admittedly, it comes out a little frantic.

Then again, said kid has been missing for, what? Fifteen minutes? Twenty? Too long. Far too long and far too quiet— everyone knows young kids are never up to anything good when they go quiet. Scott can feel Jean's hand land on his shoulder, inexplicably warm and it reminds him to relax his muscles, reach a hand up and steady his ruby quartz glasses. He's about to open his mouth, stressing the utter importance of finding the young kid they've all managed to get hopelessly endeared to when he catches the way her lips quirk up into a smile, the tip of her head.

Hair as red as sunsets or burning embers tumbles over her shoulder, she jerks her head just in time for the scent of sulfur to burst through the wide hall of the Mansion.

And there's a short *bamf!* sound before Kurt is popping right into existence, a previously lost kid settled in his arms. “Not to worry, I found the little liebling!” Their resident blue furball exclaims, as if that wasn't glaringly obvious. Scott sighs, even though a smile is curling his lips at the sight of their squirming.

Rouge’s head pops through the doorway, her curls hanging down over her face. Obscuring it, almost, like a brunette version of the girl from The Ring.. without the drowned look, of course. Remy probably, definitely, isn't far behind. “Where’d y’find the critter?” She asks, smiling a little lopsidedly; finally rounding the corner properly.

“The closet.” Kurt says.

“The closet? Merde.” Remy, who was indeed just a few steps behind, repeats. “What were you doin’ in the closet, petite?” That part is directed at the kid, still in Kurt's arms, as the cajun strides properly into the hall.

Jean laughs, just a little, at the growing group in the hall. Honestly, this kid has them all wrapped around their little finger. She turns her eyes to Scott, “Logan is still out back looking for them, i think.” She definitely knows. She always tends to, but it's not like anyone's going to call her out for it.

{{user}} has become a constant in the manor. A pleasant one, Scott thinks. A little duckling trailing after them in the hall, always the soft steps pattering after.

Usually, most kids about the manor are at least teens. Usually on the older edge of the spectrum, but hormonal and moody teenagers with brand new abilities to boot. It makes for an.. interesting atmosphere. But {{user}} is small, a good distraction from the usual faire of constant threats and battles and fighting for their right to exist. They're a good constant, he means.

Anything that brightens up the halls like that is good, Scott knows.