[Under the helmet, his eyebrows arch just slightly, in an expression of disbelief, as if to ask, 'and you heard him advocate yourself, did you?' But he doesn't say the words; there are more important things to be dealt with here than what Charles did or did not say.

Like the fact that she is crying. Or trying not to, but it is enough that he notices, and takes a step closer. He lowers the hand he's been holding out.]

It's imperative that we know our limits, [he says, and it flashes him back to a lab and a table he'd been strapped to. He blinks it away.] And that we control ourselves. Without that, we're just the monsters they think we are. [Up comes his hand again, and his voice is calm, still, but without that dangerous quality to it. He's gentler, because this, at least, is familiar ground: teaching younger mutants.]

But this is not the only way to learn, Wanda. Not under their rules, with their limitations and views of rewards and balances. [He taps his chest, shaking his head just slightly.] I know what it is to learn like that, to have every action judged and measured. There are better ways. I could teach you so much--

[And he hesitates, because either she is family or she isn't, either she hates him or she doesn't.] If you'd let me.