Jean’s passed by it before—a framed black-and-white photo, the first class portrait. But today she lingers, her fingers on the glass. In the center stands Professor Xavier, the youngest she’s ever seen him, smiling proudly; at his right, a pretty teenage girl, light catching her pale hair; at his left, a tall, sharp man clothed in black. Together they form as a triptych.
Who are they? Jean asks, sensing the Professor’s approach.
My sister, Raven, he replies, an emotion behind the words that only telepathy can convey. And Erik.
Jean’s eyes widen. Instinctively her hand reaches for his.