"I never talked about it," he murmured, glancing up at her. "I claimed it was a wild fire, and people wanted to believe it. I had survived, a miracle they said, and the drug lords were dead. No one wanted to question it, and so they didn't."

He sighed, shrugging one shoulder. "The fire only hurts me when I push trying to create it. Really... really all I can do is manipulate the fire. Making it from nothing is still beyond me." Though he was better with creating it from the smallest spark.

"So... I started learning about what I was. What I learned most was that a lot of us died because of genetics, things we couldn't make happen but that nature brought to us. I tried working with those that are trying to help mutants but what they do... It's madness. It's hiding what they are."

And he'd never speak of the true work he did, but this was the open story and he could share that with her.