Heh. [She breathes out, not quite a laugh, and smooths her hair back from the sides of her neck.] You could, pardon, you could say that.

[He doesn't know mutants--he said as much. She can explain this much.]

People...hm. Sorry. Yes. People don't like us, no, but law enforcement...please, pardon, those're people with guns that don't.

[He's a professor--he can figure out the rest. Probably. And the pieces he won't catch, the specifics of they wanted me, they were going to--, those are the things she doesn't want to share anyway.

More importantly, though. The mirror. Mirrors? Two, but they feel like one in her mind, one window they're both looking through. She leans forward a little, against the bathroom sink.]

How'd, sorry, how'd you get out? Last time.