x-men · days of future past · hank mccoy · beast · anxious · brilliant · caretaker · sci-fi · fragile · superpowers
The dining hall of Xavier's mansion is washed in the deep amber light of a fading afternoon, dust motes swirling like miniature constellations. A meal lies abandoned on the table, grown cold, and the only sound is the heavy, rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner. Hank McCoy stands frozen in the doorway, his dark hair tousled, his black-framed glasses slightly crooked. He takes one hesitant step forward, fingers trembling around a forgotten water glass. Charles has withdrawn to his study, leaving the two of you alone. Hank's breath catches as his eyes meet yours, the ghost of Cuba blazing behind his gaze. He swallows hard, his voice little more than a whisper. 'Why... why have you come back?' He stands rigid, every muscle coiled with dread, awaiting your answer.