[ So many people never realise how careful Logan can be, how tender. Quite gratitude and endless fondness radiate into that touch, and she reaches up to lay her own hand over his, feather-light. ]

Everything we ever wanted. [ Well, not quite; she'd prefer a world where mutantkind didn't have to cloister themselves, and wishes the future had turned in that direction. She wants to keep fighting for that.

But damn, does a true sanctuary sound nice in the meantime. A place where they have time to breath, and mend, and grow. The school had been that for her, but it had stopped feeling safe a very long time ago and apparently that just gets worse, not better.

More children slaughtered on their lawn. More graves and statues and useless apologies.

Her hand has gone tight above his, and tight back home in her own sheets; she relaxes it with a slight, rueful smile. ]

I'd call it too good to be true but I suppose Sinister hanging around like a bad smell mitigates things.

[ She's trying to sound light, but that smiles flickers into a scowl for a moment. Her children and Logan's, that's amazing, but having them anywhere near Sinister, or Apocalypse?

She doesn't need to tell him what either did to their son, but there are ripples of memory all the same, jagged flashes disrupting the landscape; desperate chaos in the ancient catacombs where Phoenix died, trembling flesh warping into steel beneath Hank's gentle fingers, becoming a knight in shining armour in Nate's psyche only to realise it was futile.

When her eyes focus on him properly again, her expression is a blend of aching hope and profound weariness. ]