“Rose and I are going to kill each other five feet out the door.” “On the bright side,” Connor says, “Emma Frost doesn’t have a weapon.” He unfurls the whip and snaps it in the air. “That could’ve been your ass.” “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I banter. He grins widely, looking less like Batman and way more like Connor Cobalt. “So much it hurts,” he replies.
